Hello Strangers!
by Lord Malachite
Summary: Ginger Foutley, age 21, has a nationally syndicated weekly newspaper column that she uses to share her experiences, her demons, her stories, and ultimately, her life's journey. Submitted here is the first collection of her unique insights.
1. Foreward

_Message From The Editor_

Contained herein is a collection of what I feel number among the best of the _Hello, Strangers! _Columns by Ginger Foutley that have been printed since 2005. While it is true that nearly all of them have previously seen print in my epic _Hey Arnold! Fanfic, _"Instant Gratification," I felt that it was high time to let Miss Foutley begin to fly on her own. Also, over the past year, my life has changed significantly, and as such I have had little to no time for writing. Recently, I have been trying to take steps to remedy that situation, and to return to the table to finish "Instant Gratification" once and for all. That being said, as I was reading over the material for the story, it dawned on me that there are probably ATBG fans out there who never knew I was making equal use of this dynamic character and her unique world, and I for one feel that it is high time that I rectified that situation.

Submitted here for your approval is perhaps one of the more off-beat forms of fanfiction you will encounter. I almost prefer to think of this as "non-fictional creative prose," as in these works I have done my absolute best to pick up the quill of a twenty-one year old Ginger Foutley and offer insight into her daily life, her observations, her hopes, her fears, her dreams, her experiences….everything that is shaping her into the person that she will eventually become. As such, I feel it is almost wrong to call myself the author. I may have written the words in these columns, but it was Ginger who truly gave them a voice. I have been writing fanfiction since the late 90's, but never before have I taken on a project that caused me to start thinking like the characters I worked with. And to thin, the column just started out as an intriguing idea in my head to draw parallels with the theme of my story, and now it's evolved into it's own entity. Even the ATBG characters pop up in the continuity of the Hey Arnold fanfic from time to time, cementing the bonds.

Ultimately, this collection of columns may just be my attempt to make life imitate art, seeing as how Ginger experienced having some of her columns collected and published in my story. Or it's just an attempt to reinvigorate interest in my story while simultaneously reaching out to the Ginger fanbase. Hopefully, this will allow me to get back to work on "Instant Gratification" in the near future so that I can provide the conclusion that everyone is waiting for. But to help ease the wait, I have included a brand-new column as the last entry in this collection. Thanks to the fans, for doing all that you do, and I hope to see you soon.

Lord Malachite

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

_Foreward_

_When Courtney first came up with the idea of publishing some of my columns into a book, I thought she was crazy. I've never been comfortable with my own popularity, because that's not really who I am. Even though my column has been successful, I never let it go to my head. It's easy to be liked when it doesn't cost anything to read me. You can find me in most major newspapers around the country. _

_So perhaps, then, this book your holding represents a shift in our country's way of thinking. After all, why read it for free, when you can buy it? I'd like to say that you're special for buying this, but the truth is, you must just like me. Every column in this book was hand-picked by Courtney, but I'm sorry to report that there's no special material, nothing out of the ordinary. If you're a regular reader of mine, I thank you for putting a few extra dollars in my wallet, but I'm afraid that all you've bought is a chance to read my ramblings over a second time. Well, okay, maybe I did include one column that I never published. You know, because I felt like it would be taking advantage of people to get them to buy material they've already read. I'm kind of slipping that column in, so don't tell Courtney, okay?_

_But maybe someone out there is new to my writings. If so, come on in, pull up a chair. I don't know if anything I have to say will interest you, but you've come this far, so you must've figured that I'm worth a shot. I'll try my best not to disappoint. The pre-orders from all the major bookstores exceeded our initial expectations, so my hope is that I'm doing something right. I've even got a few signings planned, so if you're a real Ginger junkie (is it pretentious to talk about myself in the third person), check the calendar at your local bookstore. Who knows, maybe I'll be dropping by. Just remember—the reality never lives up to the legend._

_Thanks again for all of your support, and I hope to be seeing you all in the papers soon. Enjoy!_

_Ginger Foutley_

_(currently dancing barefoot in her living room)_

_March 19, 2006_


	2. Home Is Where The Angst Is

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Sometimes the best and worst part of this job is the freedom I have to write what I want. Whatever I want! Every time I think about that, I can't help but wonder if they have the right person. I just recently found out that my editor and a computer program are the only people (or inanimate object as the case may be) who even see this thing before it's published and distributed to different papers around the country. I've been told it's because my publisher and backer has absolute faith in my talent and professionalism. Somehow, I think it has something to do with my friendship with the woman who just happens to own the publishing house. Hi Courtney!_

_Well, I guess that's enough about the business end of things for today. See how dangerous it can be to let me run rampant? This isn't the kind of job you might expect, it's really a lot harder than it looks. I'm lying across my bed, pecking away at the keys on my laptop. Sounds difficult, huh? The catch is, this isn't my home, so much as the home I grew up in. I come back to my mother's house to help my brother get ready for college, and suddenly I realize I haven't even written my column this week. It's amazing what a call from your boss can motivate you to do. Anyhow, I'm typing on my old bed, spending more time sneaking glances out the window than I am writing. I haven't been here in awhile. There's a lot of memories around me. It's funny; I kind of assumed that Dr. Dave would've turned my old room into a den or something by now. Score another one for maternal sentimentality and apron strings. I should've known Mom wouldn't let me down. _

_It's a strange feeling, when you keep expecting your childhood to just pick up where it left off. I keep waiting for one of my BFFs to call, or for Darren to climb through my windowsill. And then something in my brain reminds me that I'm not in Kansas anymore. Everything is different when you're on this side of the line that separates kids and adults. Not better, not worse. Just different. I like who I am and where I'm going, but when I'm in these surroundings, suddenly I want to stop myself from getting any older. I want to go back to the way things were, back when I only had to worry about getting a date for the dance, or battling with teachers, helping out a friend, getting term papers in on time, or just eating chocolate and staying up late. Now I have to worry about things like rent and car payments and finding the time to do something as simple as getting my hair done. Now I'm on the outside looking in, and like most everyone else in my age bracket, I've realized too late that grades 7-12 were the best times of my life. _

_We rarely appreciate what we have until it's gone. Maybe youth is wasted on the young. As I lay here on my bed, I find myself second-guessing everything I ever did as a teenager. I was always a pretty good kid; I didn't do much to make my mom pull her hair out. But should I have done some things differently? There must be. There always is. But is there anything to be done? It's past, over and gone. All you can do now is look. But sometimes, when you shut your eyes, the sounds and smells will come back to you. _

_Forgive me, but suddenly, I don't feel like writing. Maybe it's a little unprofessional of me to tell you how the soup is made, but this kind of thing happens sometimes. I end up starting and stopping almost every day, but my editor manages to take it and make it look like genius at work. And it looks like this is one of those days. Don't worry, I'll be back in a bit, I promise._

_That's so much better. I just really needed a break from all this. Some of these thoughts aren't very pleasant, and I don't like to dwell on them. But when I'm surrounded by all these memories, I find myself thinking about the fights I had with my friends, not just the good times. And the fact that they aren't here right now. I came here alone. Simple excuse, help my brother move out and get settled into a dorm. But now it's getting much harder to deny the truth I've had trouble letting go of. And I just ended a sentence in a preposition, that's like a cardinal no-no in grammar! I'm breathing faster. There's this creeping fear that's been assaulting my thoughts; that maybe when all is said and done, I, too, am less delicate than the locust. That it's just part of the curse of being human, something I haven't been able to overcome. And what does that make me? I'm a senior in college and I don't even know what I want to do with my life yet! If this were high school, my friends would be here to help me. And yet, as I lie here on this bed, I realize that my relationships with those people are falling apart. That maybe we've done too much to each other, gone our separate ways, gotten selfish, knives in the back. Put everything before our friendship. Work, success, guys, everything that becomes important in those final years of your childhood—getting ready for the end of it. I didn't even call my best friend for fashion advice the day of senior prom! I don't call her anymore. I don't know why. I'm not upset with her, I don't even think badly of her. Well, maybe a little, but we've been friends for a long time, I know I have blemishes on my record as well. And then there's my other best friend. I talked with her once this year, but it's a little painful to speak with her. She's doing exactly what she wants to do, and I'm naked in the dark. I'll be graduating from college this year and now I find myself worrying that maybe I've been wasting the past four years on something that isn't for me. Even my brother knows what he wants out of life! So where's Ginger's turn? The only thing I feel confident about right now is this column. A column which I am paid a substantial amount of money to bring to the Gripling Publishing Empire every week. Am I name dropping here? Maybe I've just lost my tact; I don't feel like I have a lot of dignity right now. Courtney, if you're reading this, I'm not badmouthing you. Quite the contrary, I'm really grateful for the chance to share a little slice of life with America every week. But I'm just. . .going through some stuff here. _

_And I'm probably wearing out my welcome, and for that, I'm truly sorry, all of you. This isn't what you came here to read. I know, I check my fan mail. People like my stories. They like my observations, my rally cries, my semi-annual call to stop and smell the roses because life is passing you by. But now I feel like my life isn't going anywhere. That maybe I won't get it started. Before this paragraph, I broke again to stop and call someone very near and dear to me. I really needed it. He made me cry. Some guy, huh? But, they weren't the bad kind of tears, so don't worry. _

_Okay, so this is it. No witty punch line. Nothing to make you smile. Foutley's all tapped out today, forgive me. But please, if you never take anything else I've said in this forum to heart, then keep this with you. Find yourself. And don't ever let go. Give some serious thought to who you are, and what you want out of life. Love deeply and with all you are. Love each other. Don't let the sun go down on your anger. Don't talk about making the world a better place, do something about it. Keep your cool. Fire your passions. Call your parents. Plant tulips. Drink herbal tea. Spit into the wind. Breathe deep. Pinch yourself to know that you're alive. But don't feel sorry for yourself. It only leads to self-indulgent writing. Self-indulgent writing. In tenth grade, I was taught that this is the greatest sin an author can perpetrate. Well if that's true, then go ahead and put me in the queue for the hot place, because today I just can't take it anymore. Does anybody out there need instructions how to cry? Because over the past several hours, I've become something of an expert. And if I have to hear my mother knocking on my bedroom door one more time, begging me to tell her what's wrong while I'm sobbing like a schoolgirl, I don't think I can keep me myself from getting hysterical. This is Ginger Foutley, 21 going on 12, saying good night._


	3. Things Past

_Hello, Strangers!_ By Ginger Foutley

_Okay, fair warning. I'm having a long night here. Guess I've got a lot to say. I just wanted you to know that as I type this out, I'm working on my fourth Rum and Coke, so I should probably be taken with a grain of salt._

_So here I am up in the attic, shifting boxes around to find all of Carl's stuff we locked away up here. Of course, the problem is that I'm not really working all that hard at it. I keep coming across boxes of my own up here, and I have to stop and open them all and see what parts of my childhood I left behind. It's kind of ironic when you get right down to it. The things that practically encompass the scope of your entire existence when you're five years old can get packed into folded cardboard, sealed with packaging tape, and left in a dark, lonely space for years and years at a time. But when you rediscover them again, it's almost as though you can't bear to look away. They evoke all these memories in you. And suddenly, you find yourself wondering where your childhood went. Right now, I'd like to get it all back, if only for a little while. Those days when you were so young, you carried a stuffed animal with you and watched cartoons, played make believe and dress up. Oh come on, don't get embarrassed, you know you used to do it. We were all young once. On my better days, I'm still young at heart, that's what matters. _

_And the toys! Can't forget about the toys! I wish I could still look at them with the same wonder and amazement I had as a child. It's just not the same looking back. You're whole perspective is changed, jaded. The real world has beat us all into submission. Listen to me, droning on about how terrible the world is. And I've barely even started my life! What's going to happen to me when I'm middle-aged? _

_But in front of me is the life of a girl. There's ponies and flower patterns and everything pastel. Some of it might come in handy if I ever have a girl of my own someday. But there are things I can't ever give away. Like my baby blanket, it's really important to me. Sometimes, when things get really bad, I curl up with it. I remember one night in my junior year of high school, I was home alone. Darren and I had had a really bad fight (we were in our on again, off again stage that lasted for about six or seven years). Mom and Carl were out, and there I was, balled up on the couch with my little blanket. It even smelled like baby powder. So I'm lying there, drinking hot chocolate and watching "Some Kind Of Wonderful" and trying to forget about the stupidity of men for awhile, when my brother Carl comes home early. He takes one long look at me and draws an unflattering comparison to Linus Van Pelt. I wasn't very appreciative of his joke at the time, but now I understand what he was talking about. And deep down, I think that this old blanket has something to do with my own security. I guess I need it. It did its fair share of protecting me from the American Schoolyard when I was still just a girl. Oh, that's right; you can't ever escape the horrors of the American Schoolyard._

_The schoolyard will hold you captive for all your years. See, everyday life contains the same rules and politics that we learn at recess in first grade. Some people are more popular than others, and we're more or less at their mercy. These are the people who labeled you by the end of your first week in grade school. So what were you? A jock? A nerd? A geek? Teacher's pet? Popular? Regular? Outcast? Bully? Toadie? Victim? I like to think I was just a regular girl myself. Until I hooked up with my friends in second grade, I was just kind of there. I didn't have any friends or enemies. I wasn't an outcast but I wasn't accepted. It's like I was a little of everything and a little of nothing. When I got older, I was technically a geek. I focused on science and English, I had the ear of many a teacher. But I didn't develop much of a reputation until I became the acquaintance (not to mention pet project) of Courtney Gripling. To this day, I still don't entirely understand our relationship. At different times, we've both gone farther for each other than we have for our best friends. And yet, we're not really friends, I guess. It's weird. No, it isn't. It's the playground. We're not from the same world, the same caste. I don't think we're allowed to be friends. It's just the way society works. But these are the barriers we are taught to create at so young an age. And though celebrities and politicians and revolutionaries talk big about breaking down those very barriers, we all know that they're full of crap. We're all too scared to pull them down, because then our entire society might fall apart. And until we overcome our cowardice; allow ourselves to think differently, to love one another, then nothing will ever change._

_Remember that box I was going through? One of my ponies is dead. I guess the edge of this box was in the beam of sunlight that flows through our attic. Too hot up there during the summer, the poor thing was way at the bottom of the box, half melted and looking up at me with one eye, as though I had failed it. I used a butter knife to cut it free of the cardboard and cradled it in my hands for a moment. And I started crying. Is that crazy? It was just a hunk of plastic, wasn't it? Or did that pony really have a soul? I brought it downstairs to show my mother, and she screamed. Because when I held that pony out to her, my hand was covered in blood. I thought I had managed to cut myself with the knife somehow, so I ran to the sink and washed up. And when she came over to examine me to see if I had been seriously hurt, she couldn't find a single cut. Not even a scratch or a nick. I ran back upstairs and tore through the box, looking for something, anything to explain what had happened. But everything was as I had left it, no blood or paint or anything that would account for the blood. I tore downstairs one last time and cradled my childhood friend in my hand. Just a lump of melted purple plastic and golden blonde hair, that one eye staring up at me, asking why. I haven't been able to stop the tears yet. And for the record, this would be why I'm on my fourth. . .whoops, make that fifth Rum and Coke. I know that I'm mad. I must truly be going out of my mind._


	4. You Are Cordially Invited

_Hello, Strangers!_ By Ginger Foutley

_Alright, secret time. I haven't really told anyone yet except for my immediate family, so this is as good a venue for the official announcement as any. I'm getting married! I think. Okay, as you can probably tell, I haven't put nearly enough thought into this yet. I said yes, but we haven't even set a date or made any preparations. Maybe both of us are just afraid to through with it. Darren and I have been on again, off again for a long time. But we've been on for over a year now, and, well, he just sort of asked me out of the blue. At the time, I just couldn't think of a reason to say no. I totally love him, I always have. Even when I was really angry or hurt because of him. He's definitely not the perfect man, but he tries, and that's all I can really ask for. _

_So here I am, with a ring on my finger. It's been there for weeks, and I have mixed emotions over it. Sometimes, when I feel nervous, I find myself running a finger over it, I guess it gives me a little reassurance. It's a mad world where only the mad are sane, and this rock on my finger is, well, my rock. Something to cling to in the storm, a safe port. At least I know somebody loves me. Ever since I've been about fourteen, I always wondered what this would be like. It's not that I'm desperate to get married or anything, I just, wanted to know what it was like to be told by a guy that he loves you like no other. Out of all the millions of women in this world, you're the only one for him. And now that it's happened, well, I'm still wondering. Darren said some really beautiful things to me when he popped the question. And we've known each other for so long that I can't really think of marrying anyone else. We've been through so much together. Shared so much love, and caused each other a lot of pain, too. It's all just part of being human. _

_I don't know if I'll ever understand the things that we do to each other. Men and women just don't make sense. How can we claim to love each other so much one minute and claw at each other like vicious animals the next? And yet we keep coming back for more! I'm sorry, but I just can't believe that sex is the whole reason we put ourselves through all that. I can't believe that love isn't there at the core of our lives, giving us a helping hand, showing us how to understand each other. We are not beyond saving. For every terrorist or pedophile or sociopath that roams the world, there's a philanthropist, a good Samaritan, someone willing to stand up and fight for what's really important. I like to think that for all his faults, Darren is one of those people. That even though we've hurt each other in the past, we've also learned from these mistakes. That we've both decided that what we have is real. _

_You have to believe in that. I can't be alone. Someone else out there is in love too, right? I mean, really in love. Not high school 'I love you, I love you too.' I'm talking about the real thing. That magic that takes flight in your heart when you know you've found that one person who can make you happy forever. When you tell someone you love them like that, then you've found the secret to building a better world. Because love isn't something you can just hold inside. It starts in your heart and is nurtured by your soul, and it's the only thing in this world that you can call your own, that no one can take from you. And you can't just hold that inside, no matter how hard you might try. It's going to come out, one way or another. Through the cracks, through the chinks that you think no one can see. In your thoughts, in your actions. Maybe you'll confess when no one is looking. Maybe you'll write it all down as a secret admirer note. Maybe you'll end up climbing to the rooftops and declaring your love for the whole world to see. Because love is something that's meant to be shared. It can't be helped. That's the nature of love. It's nothing to be afraid of. _

_So why do I suddenly feel like saying all this, hmm? Maybe I finally decided to take some of my own advice and cut loose. For the past few weeks, I've been taking myself entirely too seriously. I figured it was time for a completely new approach. Besides, this hotel room is the best! I've never been in a bathtub this big before. Yeah, that's right. I've been dictating this baby into a micro cassette while I lounge in the bathtub. Eh, it's for this very reason that I only let them publish a headshot of me next to this column. I'm taking these scented bars of soap home with me, and some of this herbal shampoo. I really need to go on vacation more often._

_Okay, where was I before that little reverie? Oh, right! Love! It's nothing to be afraid of. Even now, as I lie here in the soapy water, watching the light catch the diamond on my finger, I'm still afraid. Not of love, but that I might somehow fail it. I'm only human, after all. Is it so wrong to want to get it right the first time? I hope not. But I look back on how my mother wasn't the biggest winner at marriage until she met Dr. Dave and, well, I worry that I'll make mistakes too. Mom says I'm just not trusting in my feelings enough, and maybe that's true. Does that make me a hypocrite for writing all this? _

_I guess maybe, in the end, there are no sure things, even with love. You just have to reach out with your heart and trust. You have to believe that things will turn out as they should. Otherwise, you'll just be spinning your wheels. Sometimes I feel like I need to remind myself of that. I won't lie. Darren and I. . .we made some mistakes along the way. Big mistakes. But for some reason, no matter how many times we say it's over for good. . .it never is. It's never over between us. And I think we've finally realized that it never will be over. And that none of those things we've done to each other matter. It's true what they say. Love conquers all. Why don't you give it a try?_


	5. Life Is A Highway

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Have you ever noticed how everything going on in your life seems to culminate when you're driving down the freeway? I sometimes find myself arriving at wherever it is I was driving to, and I can't even remember how I got there. I was so busy thinking about my Mom, or my Dad, Carl, Darren, Dr. Dave, Courtney. . .it's a wonder I haven't killed myself, or worse, someone else? How do our brains manage to do something as complex as driving down a crowded highway at fast speeds without us giving it any conscious thought? It's like we can just compartmentalize anything we need. And that's just the tip of the iceberg._

_Have you ever walked through the streets of New York City? You might come across someone just lying on the ground, helpless, and no one stops to see if they're okay. They just keep walking. I just keep walking. It's not something I'm proud of, and it goes against my nature. But the foot traffic is so heavy that I don't think I could stop if I wanted to. It's like being on an escalator. Whether you walk up it or not, you're going to end up at the next floor. It amazes me how this kind of thing is so ingrained in our culture. Why do we treat each other less like human beings and more like, well, obstacles. We're always in such a hurry to get somewhere. Life's too short and all that. And I understand where those people are coming from, really I do. I'm only twenty-one years old, and already I can't figure out where most of my life has gone. What am I going to do when I'm my mother's age! Ugh, why do I get the feeling that I'm going to be getting a phone call from her over that line?_

_Why do we make our lives so short? I mean, we get a good seventy or eighty years if all goes well, right? Sure, it isn't an eternity. But if there are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year! If you only lived to be seventy, you have like well over twenty-five thousand days in your life. That's still a long time. But we're always in a hurry. Now okay, we all spend about a third of our life sleeping. Can't do much about that. And even though we aren't really getting much accomplished during those times, hey, it sure feels good, right? Okay, so if I'm doing my math right, that's still over seventeen thousand days. But our problem is that we've garbaged up our lives with so much junk that we don't leave enough left over for what's really important. How many people do you know who work at least ten hours of overtime a week? Maybe you are one of those people! And sure, the money is great, but think of the time you're taking away from your family and friends, people who really care about you. I've talked to so many people who say the take on long hours at work so that they can provide a better lifestyle for their children. And I'm not trying to guilt trip you on that. Sometimes it's even necessary. But please, ask yourself what's more important, being able to afford shiny things, or spending time with your family as a whole. Sometimes, you do have to work a lot, and it can't be helped. But try not to make it a habit. I mean, I love my Mom, but I really wish she had been around more when I was younger. But she worked in a hospital, and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what the hours can be like in one of those. But even when she did work a double shift, even when she couldn't spend as much time with us as she wanted to, she was always there for us. If we had a question or a problem or just needed a good old-fashioned hug, my mom was always there for us. And I didn't get away with too much either. Not that I didn't try from time to time. _

_I guess what I'm trying to say is that we're so preoccupied with stuff that we sometimes miss what's important. And even though I'm kind of going through an identity crisis right now, I'm doing my best not to lose sight of the things that matter most to me. The people and things that make me who I am. I need to remember that stuff. So that when I tell people my name is Ginger Foutley, I know who that person is. Who that person is supposed to be. _

_A word of advice to the rest of the young people out there. Be careful when you fall in love. Even when it's with a wonderful person, it's going to lead to a lot of lost sleep and existential thinking. Of course, if you're lucky like me, you might find a job where you get paid to exorcise your demons for the world to see. So if you happen to pass by me on the freeway, go ahead and toot your horn. If I can keep my mind off auto-pilot, I might even honk back._


	6. Sometimes A Fantasy

_Hello, Strangers!_ By Ginger Foutley

_Melanie Griffith strolled down Dobson Street a little after 1AM, turning into a bar that was filled with rowdy sounds and raucous laughter. She took a seat at the stool closest to the door and signaled the bartender to bring her a scotch and water. While she waited for her poison, she examined the surroundings of this den of iniquity she had wandered into. The dingy walls were mostly littered with photos of various people in the bar. Melanie assumed it must've been a Wall of Fame or something. Many bars had a theme. Melanie preferred the direct approach. Like the pub that had been featured in "It's A Wonderful Life." That was how she liked to drink. "We serve hard liquor to men who want to get drunk fast, and we don't need any kooks to give the place character."_

_Melanie's scotch arrived and she drank deeply, enjoying the warm feeling that spread throughout her chest as the liquid worked its way down. "You ain't from around here." The bartender said._

"_I'm from everywhere."_

"_That's what they all say. What's your name, doll face?"_

"_Megan."_

"_What are you comin' to a place like this for? This here's a bar for the sad sacks. The types who are only able to laugh when they get a few drinks in 'em. Listen to them. When they first come in, they go on and on about how the can't stand their jobs or their wives or their husbands or they're just down on their luck or whatever's going on in their crummy lives. Then they hang around for an hour or two and drink heartily, and all of a sudden they're the life of the party. Life is worth living again. That's who we serve here. You don't look to down on your luck to me."_

_Melanie looked across the room through the blue cigarette smoke, listening to boisterous conversations of middle-aged men and women pretending they were still in their twenties. "It's illegal to smoke in bars in this state." Melanie said flatly, deciding not to take the bartender's bait._

"_We don't pay laws like that much heed around here. If the state wants to come and shut us down, that's their business. But in the meantime, I've got a business to run, and I'm not about to turn away paying customers because of some feel good law some liberal legislators passed."_

"_You've got an answer for everything, haven't you?"_

"_Being surrounded by alcohol all the time, it makes you think you're smarter than you really are. Tougher too. What, you think you're better than me because you don't work in a bar?"_

"_I never said that."_

"_What the heck makes you so special?"_

"_I'm not. I just wanted my drink. My boyfriend is being a pain."_

"_Possessive type?"_

"_I don't know. Sometimes I just need to get away from him. Haven't you ever wanted to get away from your Old Lady?"_

"_Once or twice."_

"_What's your boyfriend's name?"_

"_Darren."_

"_What's he like."_

"_I don't know. He's nice. He stands up for me when I need someone to. We usually work good. It's not that I want to leave him or anything. I guess sometimes we just need a break from each other. Doesn't everyone?"_

"_So you go to bars?"_

"_Yeah, why not. You meet all sorts of interesting people."_

"_Is that where you met Darren?"_

"_No."_

"_You sure don't say much, lady."_

"_Some people like that in a woman."_

"_What about you?"_

"_I like what I like."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" _

"_I don't know, you figure it out."_

_Melanie emptied her glass and got off the stool, leaving six dollars on the bar. "I've got to get going."_

"_Where are you going to?"_

"_Home."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because that's where Darren is."_

"_I thought you left to get away from him."_

"_I did. But you have to go home sooner or later."_

"_I never did. I just left home one day and never went back."_

"_Maybe someday, I will too. But not today." Melanie walked out the door and started walking back up the street. She was about an hour's walk from the little apartment the two of them were living in. She had a dollar and some change left in her pocket. Darren was back home, playing with the dog and watching Conan O'Brien. They had made it._


	7. The Greatest Emotion

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Does love really mean never having to say you're sorry? I mean, seriously, who came up with that ridiculous notion? Love is a constant series of apologies. It's got to be the only thing in the universe that makes you feel like you're whole and safe, and at the same time makes you feel like the world could crumble around you at any minute. The first time I was in a really serious relationship, I felt so insecure that I thought I might burst. My friends resented me, I missed him all the time, I couldn't concentrate on stuff I was supposed to be working on. My life was an absolute mess! But at the same time, I looked forward to every breath I took. Even when we weren't together, I knew that I was always getting closer to the next time we could see each other. I felt brilliant all the time. You know how people always say how a woman glows when she's pregnant? Well that's exactly what it was like for me. Um, without the morning sickness and extended belly. Even Carl noticed, to say nothing of my mom. There really was love in the air. I felt like the schoolgirl I was. But this was bigger. It wasn't like having a crush. It was serious. We had to struggle not to let it get _too _serious. I wanted to maintain some semblance of my childhood, anyway._

_I didn't understand a lot of it. Some of the finer points of love still escape me, nine years later. Have you ever met anyone who can truly explain love and all of its mysteries? Good luck with that one! I don't even know what it is that makes one guy attractive and another one unappetizing. Human relationships escape me on some levels. I know, that's probably hard to believe, coming from me, but it's true! Even I'm not perfect at this kind of thing. I just try to do the best that I can. Maybe that's all part of the being human routine. Life is a learning process. _

_Being in love is just a state that you have to get used to. And it isn't like riding a bike at all. When you're not in love, when you're a free agent, things are easier for you in some regards, but it's impossible to deny that you're going to be lonely. It just comes with the territory. And when you're back in love again, it's nothing like it was the time before, unless you have the fortune (or misfortune, as the case may be) of falling back with the same person. Love has become such a huge part of my life, and sometimes it feels all encompassing. It threatens to completely take over. Sometimes you just can't help it. Nothing else feels as important as being with the one you love. There's no greater feeling in the world, a perfect drug. It means everything._

_But then, sometimes, you lose it. And you can feel your world shattering around you. What else is there to do? How can you possibly go on? Too many times I've found myself in that position. Heartache is perhaps one of the most emotionally painful things you can go through in life. And worse than breaking up, what about when you're just desperate for someone to love? You need someone you can click with. You need to feel complete. And it's so hard to find someone. Maybe you go out on a date, and you want to like them. And you try, but you just can't. You can't make yourself love someone. No matter how lonely you might be. You can kid yourself. You can pretend. You can fake it. But in the end, you're the one who's going to suffer. You're the one who's acting the fool. And you're just causing hurt. Beyond yourself, think of how the other person will feel. And these are the times that make me afraid of love. I start to fear everything it entails. You're forced to confront the reality that for better or for worse, it is a double-edged sword. You have to do your best with what you're given._

_There is no manual for love. No instructions on how to practice it properly. All you can do is muddle through, and hope that somehow you're doing it right, trusting in the other person to let you know. I guess in that way, it's a lot like sex, only more complicated. Even when sex goes bad, it has the potential to still be good, if there was love behind it. Love gone bad. . .often turns to hate. I resolved long ago never to let myself hate someone. No matter what they might say or do. I don't have to like them, but I won't hate them. We live in a world that is just beginning to learn how not to hate. And even at that, we're still only toddlers. We have a long way to go._

_Is there someone that you love? Then put down this newspaper and go tell them this instant. Tell them, show them, and let me know if they love you back. _


	8. With A Little Help From My Friends

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Sometimes you just have one of those days, and God only knows what's going on with us. I woke up on a Thursday about three weeks ago. Something had hit me overnight. My entire world lurched the moment I opened my eyes. It was like the worst hangover of my life, except I hadn't had anything to drink the night before. I don't consider myself to be much of a party girl in that sense. If I'm drinking, rest assured that I'm drinking heavily and it's for a darn good reason. Usually, something bad is going on in my life. Something big. But things were looking up for me. I wouldn't say my life was a paradise or anything, but there was nothing going on that would've sent me on a drinking binge. See, I believe in drinking for the right reasons. Unlike a lot of people, I only drink socially when I really have to, like a business lunch or dinner, or a party where I have to make the right impression. But that's all rather unnecessary. I think a lot of people drink just because it makes them feel good. I'm not much for that. I only drink when my life is at a point where I can't stand to be in a clear state of mind for more than ninety minutes at a time. I'm fortunate enough to have only been in that kind of state twice in the last five years, and fortunately, both were short-lived. But I digress._

_Needless to say, I crawled out of bed, feeling like I was dying. The tedious journey to the bathroom felt like it was taking an eternity. Someone was hitting my temples with a sledgehammer every three seconds. My stomach felt like it had gone on an E-ticket ride without the rest of me. My legs wobbled uselessly. Somehow, probably through divine intervention, I managed to pick my way into the bathroom. I bowed before an altar of porcelain and emptied my stomach and what felt like my liver and half my intestines into its welcoming maw. I shut the lid and pressed the lever that would send the whole mess out of my sight, and took a tentative breath. My throat burned from all the acid I'd coughed up, but at least my stomach seemed to feel a great dose of relief at having exorcised whatever demon had gotten inside of me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. They had me. I was the perfect picture of a woman who was beaten. Remains of what I had just ejected clung to my cheek, and my hair was matted with sweat. My skin was pale and sickly. In short, I looked like hell._

_Not knowing what else to do, I ran some water and washed my face. I gargled with mouthwash to get the horrid, acetic taste out of my mouth, then I staggered back to my bedroom. My alarm was going off, I silenced it with the flick of a switch. I groaned when I saw the calendar. The 18th. I had a huge appointment that morning at Gripling Publishing. I was supposed to meet with Courtney and my agent so we could discuss the terms of renewing my contract. Between you and me, I had already decided to sign another five year deal with Courtney. I had several better offers from competing publishers, sure. But Courtney is my friend. She could survive just fine if I left, but I really can't think of a way I could hurt her more than to leave. No, Robert and I were just going to make her sweat a bit. But it was a meeting that I just couldn't miss. And the idea of doing anything but going back to bed and praying for deliverance from whatever unholy disease was assailing me was unbearable. My choice was simple. I had no choice. I stripped out of everything I was wearing. No time to take a shower. At the pace my unwilling body was moving at, I would be lucky if I arrived at the meeting only forty-five minutes late. I stumbled around my room, wondering who had rearranged it on me overnight. It's always fun, knowing what the human mind will do when you're not looking. I pulled on m underwear and bra, picked the first dress out of my closet that my hand touched, and stood in front of the mirror, and felt proud of myself for managing to look halfway presentable in my current situation. Then I got a better look, and realized that in my haste, I had somehow forgotten about pantyhose. This left me with the choice of either hauling myself back to the bathroom and shaving my legs, or taking everything off and starting all over. Given my lack of anything resembling hand-eye coordination at the time, I decided that taking a razor blade to any part of my body probably wouldn't be the smartest idea in the world. _

_Thirty minutes later, I had phoned Robert and told him he would have to pick me up. I wasn't about to drive in my condition. I don't really recall much until he picked me up. I think I passed out on the couch. I wasn't even embarassed. It wouldn't be the first time a guy had come to my rescue. After rousing me from my nap, he helped me into his car. This was probably mistake #1 as far as my health is concerned. Unless, of course, you consider my getting out of bed in the first place to have been mistake #1. In that case, I've lost track. _

_Robert phoned Courtney and explained that we were hopelessly behind schedule but we were still coming. He said that she took the news rather gracefully, which I find hard to believe, considering I had probably ruined her entire morning. But I guess that's beside the point. I asked him to call my doctor when he got off with Courtney. There I was, strung out in the passenger seat, feeling like I would pass out or vomit at any moment. From somewhere in the dark recesses of my fevered brain, I conjured up my doctor's number. Like a gentleman, Robert called, despite the fact he was trying to concentrate on the rush hour traffic. The pounding sensation that had been assaulting my head earlier had turned into an outright throbbing. I fully expected my head to explode within five minutes, and I didn't particularly mind if it would mean an end to the pain. I relayed most of my symptoms to Robert. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Hartigan told me to get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids. I wanted to yell at him that that was exactly what I was trying to do, but what would've been the point? By this time, I figured that if I was a good girl, if I turned around, went home, and did exactly what Hartigan told me to do, I would get very sick and die. I couldn't see much risk in disobeying his orders. So I told Robert to keep driving. But it was still easier than calling Dr. Dave. Especially if my mom found out. _

_The road lay ahead of us. I tried to keep my eyes shut most of the time. In the few flashes of sight I did grant myself, I remember seeing an endless wave of cars. Damn I-84 to hell. I felt like that highway had been trying to kill me my entire life, and now, at last, I was finally in for it. I had showed weakness, and now finally, this road would swallow me whole. I thought of all the hours of my life I'd wasted sitting in traffic on it, the endless construction, the accidents, the bottlenecks. It seemed only fitting that this would be where I'd cash in my chips. I wondered if they'd dig my grave on one of the meridians. I hoped it was one with a nice tree to give me some shade._

_I awoke to find myself in a conference room at Gripling Publishing. Someone had stretched me out across three chairs and propped my head up with a pillow. My face felt hot and stiff. Who could've shown me such kindness? I knew I hadn't walked myself in here. And Darren was still away in college. Even he, Superman that he is, couldn't have come to save me this quickly. I found out later that Robert and Courtney had carried me inside, together. Now Robert, I could see. He was king of the nice guys, second only to Darren. All he needed was a good woman to keep him going. I really should help him find one. And Courtney! She's probably my best friend, but it's hard to picture her doing something so physical for me. Darren says I'm a princess, but I know I can't be too light! It's good to know who your friends are. _

_I signed the deal. I didn't even know what it was. I still felt woozy, and I was afraid I might have to throw up again. I read through with Robert a few days later. It wasn't much. Two cents a word on every column for the next five years, and an agreement that I would publish three books under the Gripling banner—a collection of columns, a collection of poetry, and a short story collection. I guess I should stop making plans for that novel. I've always wanted to write a novel. But that takes a lot of time and work. Work I don't mind, but I don't have time to deal with everything I do right now. If I wrote a novel, I'd have to give up this column, and I'm just not willing to do that. It wasn't even a very good deal. I could've gotten at least five cents from other houses. But it wasn't about the money._

_Yes, that's right, I don't mind sharing what I make with the rest of you. I am not that proud. Besides, it's not about the money. It never was. If it was all for the money, I'd have left Gripling Publishing after a year. But if I have the chance to touch people's lives and help a friend out in the process? Well then, I'm just going to take it._

_Courtney is looking at a deal that would help increase my column's exposure. Nothing's firmed up yet, but I know I wouldn't mind reaching more people. But if that falls through, at least I know she's collecting my columns for distribution in bookstores. Who knows, maybe I'll even have the chance to do a few signings. I hope I'll see you there. Don't worry, you won't have any trouble finding me. I'll be the girl passed out on her desk with runs in her stockings. _


	9. A Little Insomnia

_Hello, Strangers!_ By Ginger Foutley

_For most of my childhood, I've been in with the out crowd. When I first went to kindergarten, my greatest fear was that I wouldn't belong, that I wouldn't fit in. I wanted to belong. The earliest years of my life were so different. Mom said that I didn't socialize much when I was a toddler. I stayed around my home a lot. Mom would take me around with her when she would run errands, and I might end up seeing some other kids. But for the most part, it was just the two of us. And dad, when he was still around. My brother Carl didn't come along until a few months before I started nursery school. I remember not seeing enough of my dad. I still don't. It's always been like that. But somehow, he manages to be there for me when I need him most. But that's a story for another time._

_Sometimes, I wonder how I lived to be twenty-one. I mean, if I had been raising me, I would've killed myself years ago! Um, that does make sense, right? Maybe not. I tend to get punchy when I write in the middle of the night. Even now, this is writing in the loosest sense of the word. I'm spending more time staring at the walls, watching the trail of headlights dancing through my window and along the wall. People coming home from the bar to confront their lives. Full of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The blood of the beaten and the tired. The blood of cowards and fools and contenders and sad sacks and dreamers who keep smelling their wildest fantasies lying just beyond the next drink, the next tawdry affair, the next escape. These are the people who treat self-help books as the new religion, their authors the prophets of a new way of life. And sometimes, I am one of them. Yet another story I'll have to tell you later. _

_So, I was afraid when I first went to school. I wasn't sure how to act around the other kids, or what to say. I just knew that I had to be a good girl, because I didn't want to cause any problems for my mother. I don't remember the exact time I met Dodie or Macie very clearly. I remember being alone. Like there was action going on all around me, but I wasn't a part of it. But somehow they found me. Or more accurately, we found each other. There we were. The out crowd. The ones no one else wanted. But we accepted one another. What more does a kid in school want than to belong?_

_You know what, I feel the need to go off-topic again. My job is to entertain all of you every week. I'm not really required to do anything else. I think I finally realized that I'm not quite like regular people. I don't have to work 9 to 5. In fact, I have a whole week to come up with these columns. Some days, I do nothing. Sometimes, I write in piecemeal, doing a little each day and having it ready at the end of the week. Of course, what I really like to do is just sit down and write. Most of what you read is just whatever's floating through my mind at the time. Heh, looks like I have too much to think about tonight since I can't seem to keep myself focused. Miss Zorsky? If you're reading this, I'm sorry!_

_But I'm not trying to complain here. I mean, I love doing what I do. This has probably been the most rewarding experience of my life. Except maybe the first time something of mine was published. Or when I had my first real kiss. Or that time when I. . .um, I just remembered this is for the newspapers, so I'd better leave that one out. But my point, and I do have one, is that knowing that people like you are reading this thing every week is what keeps me going. Believe me, I have plenty of weeks where this is about the last thing I want to do. I just want to curl up on the couch and watch sappy movies and vegetate. And it's good to do that every now and then. But it looks like I manage to keep enough discipline that I don't miss my deadlines. I mean, I'm giving up sleep for you guys right now, right?_

_What was I saying when I started this thing? Oh, right. I already told you that I was in with the out crowd. And that suited me just fine. But as I grew older, I slowly developed an "in" with the in crowd. And things began to change. I wasn't popular, but suddenly, people knew who I was. And I didn't have to blend in with the crowd anymore. I could take a stand for the things I wanted to. When I was lucky, I might even get the support of those who ruled the social structure of Lucky Jr. High. But in truth, I ended up spending a lot of time saving the girl at the top from being toppled. I discovered that I didn't really want to be one of the popular crowd. But I did like visiting. I realize now how fortunate I was. The most popular girl in school took me under her wing, the girl who set the standards for in and out, hot and not. And yet, I had a tendency to rebel and go my own way. I've never been ashamed of who I am or where I come from. Quite the opposite, really. I've learned from long talks with my mom and my dad that I'm proud to be a Foutley. And maybe, someday, I'll have a little boy or girl who will be just as proud as I am. But until that day, I don't mind swimming along the upper echelons every now and then, standing among the beautiful people. I may be a regular girl, but I've had a taste of the popular life, and I like to keep my foot in the door. Hey, you would too! Don't look at me like that._

_Okay, that's all for now. I think I need to get back to bed. I'm starting to see double and I'm talking to myself. Moreso than usual. And you won't like me when I'm tired and snarky. Good night!_


	10. Thyme On Your Hands

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_You open your front door one morning, step down the walkway to your waiting car, and you're wondering exactly what point it was when you stopped kidding yourself that someday, you would quit your job and do something constructive with your life. You can't put your finger on that turning point, you don't remember giving up on your dreams. But sure enough, you pushed them farther and farther into the back burner, until eventually there was no room left for them. All the petty concerns of life muscled their way in. Work probably had a lot to do with it. After all, you had all those bills piling up like crazy, right? You have to do something about those when they start to tell you guys are coming to your house. Maybe, if you're lucky, you have time to play with the kids. Except they're too busy being raised by everybody but you. _

_Okay, I know, I'm being harsh. And I'm not trying to sound all holier-than-thou with you. I'm no parent, and I have fewer responsibilities than a lot of people. Don't get mad, I'm not trying to point fingers. But there's something wrong with a society where we allow things like daycare to become a staple. Call me old-fashioned, but I feel that if you want your kids to grow up with the same values you have, you need to be the one with them when they're young and impressionable. As a parent, you have to do everything you can to ensure that your children grow up right. And it's so hard for that to happen these days. Especially because as they get older, they're going to rebel against you. All children do. If you don't believe me, just ask my mom. Rebellion takes a lot of forms. It's not about going goth or smoking pot, or the music they listen to. It's this strange, powerful force that just makes kids want to be different than your parents. Parents who are neat freaks have kids who are slobs. It just seems to be the order of things. But I'll let you in on a little secret. Kids want to please their parents. They'll deny it until they're blue in the face after they become teenagers, but that doesn't make it any less true. _

_I don't know, maybe I just see things a lot differently now than I did while I was in high school. I've moved passed the whole mother/daughter relationship thing. My mother and I are more like best friends now. And maybe that's how it's supposed to be. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. My mom gives me advice sometimes, but in the end, I still have my own choices to make. If I make a sharp right when she advises me to take a left, she just shrugs. After the fact, she'll even tell me she knew I wasn't going to listen to her. Funny how she seems to know whenever I'm going to find things out for myself, the hard way. Then again, the woman did give birth to me, so I suppose nothing I do should be a genuine surprise to her. _

_Sometimes, I wonder if I have what it takes to be a parent. Granted, I haven't exactly had to step up and fulfill that role yet. I don't really want to get pregnant, not yet. I think I'm still on the road to marriage. I'm getting there but it hasn't happened yet, and I really don't want to have a kid before I'm married. I had to grow up with only one parent most of the time because my folks split when I was little. I think my mother did a damn good job with me, and especially with Carl. I should probably ask her how many years the two of us took off her life. Probably too many to count. She's a hospital nurse as it is, I don't think I'll ever know how she managed to do that for ten hours a day and still find time for us at night. Maybe it's just one of those things you do when you're a mom. You don't think about it, you just do it. That I can understand. That's what they call love. It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round. Love, I mean. I try my best to be grateful to my mother, to show her how much I appreciate everything she did for me. I think we forget to honor our parents like that. We've got Hallmark holidays in May and June. But is that really enough? I'm not saying we need to put our lives on hold to go kowtow to our parents, but. . .when was the last time you did something nice for anyone in your family that didn't have something to do with a birthday or holiday? Have you ever brought your mother flowers just because you've been thinking about her? Or sat and talked with your father about life? Or how about a big one. . .talking intimately with your brother or sister. I'm no saint. Carl and I never got along all that well. We tolerated each other's presence. But we never really had much in common other than DNA. Even now, when I get a phone call from him, it's usually to make sure I'm still on for Thanksgiving or Christmas or whatnot. Somewhere along the line, we started living separate lives, and that makes me sad. I look around at how my family life has evolved, how we've all grown apart, and I worry that it's starting to give me a fear of intimacy. Is this how things are supposed to be? If Darren and I get married, is that what will happen with us? Will we grow apart until we're just passing like two ships in the night, happening to live in the same house? I don't want that kind of relationship with anyone. I wonder if it's still possible to reconnect with my family. Maybe it just isn't possible to get that kind of relationship back with my brother. God, saying this makes me feel so old, but is youth really wasted on the young? All those years we spent yelling at each other to get out of our respective rooms. What was it all for? Weren't we supposed to understand each other better? We are both the progeny of the same parents. You would think that makes us special, like we should really get each other. Then again, if you've ever met Carl, you'd probably believe that he's beyond getting. I never really expected to miss the little booger. That'll teach me._

"_Tired of lying in the sunshine; staying home to watch the rain_

_And you are young and life is long; and there is time to kill today_

_And then one day you find; ten years have got behind you_

_No one told you when to run; you missed the starting gun_

_Every year is getting shorter; never seem to find the time_

_Plans that either come to naught; or half a page of scribbled lines"_

_--_Pink Floyd, "Time"

_Isn't it ironic that a band from my mother's generation said it best? Procrastination isn't going to get you anywhere. Take it from someone who knows. You have to stand up to yourself, to your laziness or lethargy. It's easy to put things off until the next day, or the day after that. Don't do that with your family, your friends, the people you love. Because one day, you might wake up to find that person has moved on, or worse, passed away. It happened to a good friend of mine, and one day, I have no doubt it will happen to me. So I beg you to take this one to heart. Maybe I've been a little serious today. I usually don't like to get too heavy. But when I have something to say, I say it. Even if I know not everyone will listen. At least I can say I tried. Try not to think me too preachy. Ok, if anyone needs me, I'll be in my den, looking through photo albums and drinking herbal tea. _


	11. Going To Pieces

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Have you ever had one of those moments in life when you're doing something that you know is stupid, but at the time it just feels so good that you can't possibly see past it? Come on, don't be shy. Everyone has at least one. Maybe it was ripping into an authority figure who really ticked you off. Maybe it was giving the finger to someone who cuts you off in traffic. Maybe it's just getting into an argument with someone at the grocery store about who gets the last box of cereal that's on sale for half price. My point is, we all do dumb things. _

_Throughout my life, I've found myself taking stands on a variety of different issues for a variety of different reasons. And most of the time, it wasn't very pleasant. These are the kinds of stands that usually put you on the outs with people like your teachers, your boss, your friends, or worst of all, someone higher up in the social pecking order than yourself. And suddenly you find yourself standing all alone, and you're wondering what on earth made you do this in the first place. Principles? Loyalty? Just a general feeling that someone has to do something, no matter how ineffectual it may be? Former president Jimmy Carter once gave a speech about how the country was under a "great malaise." Not exactly inspiring words from a man who was supposed to be the leader of the free world. But there are days when I think I can understand what he was talking about. These are the days when I wake up in the morning and I feel like I'm broken. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but something is wrong with me. When I sit in front of my laptop, staring at a blank page and wondering what the heck I'm supposed to fill it with. When I start my car and pull out of the driveway, and then I suddenly realize I can't even remember where I'm supposed to go. You know what I'm talking about._

_I sometimes have to wonder if I'm schizophrenic. I'm one of those people who can start out feeling like I know exactly who I am and where I'm going in life, and then by the end of the day I don't even know who I am anymore. Everything feels like an uphill battle. I have this terrible habit of second-guessing myself. It's really done a lot to complicate my relationships with my friends and significant others over the years. How bad is it when you're not even sure if you can trust your own heart? Sometimes I worry that I'm becoming an absolute mess._

_It occurs to me that even after all this time, I'm not really sure what I'm doing with my life. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm writing. I eat, drink, sleep, go to the bathroom, dress myself, shower, exist. People come up to me in the supermarket and say hello. Okay. Maybe at the checkout, someone in front of me recognizes who I am and offers to let me go in front of them. Then what am I supposed to do? I can accept the offer, but then I have to ignore the looks from everyone around me, people who don't know me from Eve and wonder what makes me think I'm so special. Or I can decline, but then I look ungrateful and anti-social, and I have to endure the strange looks anyway. Point, counterpoint. People in this town who know who I am, who watched me grow up, have come to see me as some kind of answer girl. Like I've been enlightened. People that taught me in seventh and eighth grade put me up on some kind of pedestal, and I understand that. I'm validation that they managed to pass something along to me. That the whole education process works, that it isn't just a waste of everyone's time and energy. And that's okay. I understand how being a teacher is a thankless job. But in my fan mail, people ask me all these complex, personal questions about what they should do in their lives. And I'm flattered that you've thought of me, really. But I'm not Ann Landers. I wish I could help everyone solve their problems. I'd love to save the world. But in case you hadn't noticed, I haven't fixed most of my own yet. I mean, let's face it people, I'm a mess! But I keep trying anyway. What else am I supposed to do? I've never been much for quitting. Even when it's so much easier than trying to go on. I've come close a few times, but someone always comes along to pick me up. I'm lucky to have a good support group. Not to mention the greatest guy in the world, even though I have a habit of taking him for granted sometimes. I guess that's bound to happen when you've known the same person for so long. It's really kind of easy to do if you aren't careful. But there it is anyway._

_I turn on my TV and flip through the channels. It's always a riot when you get to cable news. Men and women in fancy outfits, screaming at each other about how brilliant or how stupid Bush is, depending on which side of the aisle they happen to fight for. Okay, ordinarily, I could get that. Except maybe for the fact that they've been yelling about it for nearly six years now, and I sincerely doubt that any of them have managed to change anyone's opinion one way or the other. Don't these people have anything better to do with their lives? Anyone into politics will drone on endlessly about how necessary or how evil the war in Iraq is, but it's getting hard to find someone who will actually talk about how we've turned our own society into this polarized battlefield. This place where politicians declare that you're either for them or against them. Can't get the masses to vote the way you want them to? Let some radical liberal or conservative judge interpret law where there is none. Does any of it really matter, anyway? Any major political entity is just beholden to a bunch of special interest groups. Sure, you can always vote for an independent party, but that's about as useful as holding up a piece of paper to deflect a bullet. But in spite of all that, the system still works. Sure, we all like to talk big and noble, but the fact of the matter is that when the everyday person walks into a voting booth, they are going to vote for the candidate who will do the most for them personally. And I guess that's how it should be. You're supposed to be voting for someone who represents your own interests, right?_

_Is it just me, or did I manage to get way off on different tangents again. This happens to me whenever I'm feeling like this. I'd like to summarize my point here, but I'm not sure if I really have one this week. Maybe this is all just food for thought. Like I said, my life is a mess. But I'll put the pieces back together somehow. Trust me, I always do. But then, I get by with a little help for my friends. Whoa, Beatlespeak. Now I'm making myself sound as old as my mother! Maybe that's my cue to call it quits for the day._

_Nine days, people. Nine days of unending rain. I don't think I've seen this much rain in my life. When you hit day five, all those ark jokes suddenly seem a lot less funny. By day nine, you've become downright depressed. I think maybe that's what's causing all of this. It certainly hasn't helped my judgment at all this week. But hey, I do have an inflatable pool chair. If we get washed away, at least I know I can go in style. But seriously, if anything like that does happen, I hope this laptop will be safe. I'd hate to lose all my random thoughts and work. Bringing them to you each week is what helps keep me going in this mixed up world._

_Okay, guess it's back to work. I'm supposed to be helping Darren with the leaks in the roof. If you're not too busy, feel free to come by with some tools. Or at least a bucket to catch the water in. I'll be sure to put the kettle on. _


	12. Meet The Press

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Robert and I were traveling to New Jersey for a signing. Courtney had just released my first collection of columns, with some of my poetry thrown in as a good selling point. I was pretty excited, this was the first time anything of mine had been published in this kind of capacity. I'd had a poem or two put into collections before, and of course I could see my columns in the newspaper every week, but I'd never actually been able to go to a store and find a book that was written by me. And an actual signing? People were going to come and stand in a line just to buy my book and have ME sign it? Crazy talk! But Courtney said it wasn't, and who was I to turn down this kind of opportunity?_

_I'll say this about the Garden State. You jump on its parkway, and you start to get really annoyed that you're stopped every few miles to pay a toll. What, they couldn't have just built it like the Turnpike? You get on and pay all at once when you get off. Much easier. But hey, they don't let people like me build these systems. Somehow, after all the highways, after all the tolls, after all the fast food we got from rest areas along the way, we arrived. The first thing I asked for when we walked into the store was a large Coke. I think all the grease from the fast food was getting to me, and I felt a little queasy. I left Robert to set everything up, took my soda, and curled up on the sofa in the employee lounge. I must've dropped off for forty-five minutes or so, but when I woke up, my stomach was feeling a lot better. I was groggy, but revived. It was 1:35 in the afternoon, less than half an hour before the signing event was supposed to start. I walked into the bathroom and wanted to scream. My hair was a mess. I looked like someone had just pulled me in off the street. There was no way I could let people see me like this! I quickly washed my face and decided to do what I could with my hair. All I had in my purse was a brush, nothing fancy that would fix it. Words can't describe how stupid I felt for letting this kind of thing happen to me. Too late now. I couldn't make it perfect again, but at least I looked decent. I hoped that this would at least give me a kind of down to earth appearance. No one could accuse me of trying to put myself on a pedestal._

_I went out to the table Robert had prepared for me. He must have pulled a hundred or more copies of my book from the storage room. I thought he was way overestimating my popularity. People like me, sure. But that much? Sounded like wishful thinking to me. Then I got to see the line of people waiting for me. They were slowly being corralled into the building, waiting behind a velvet rope for the signing to start. I could already feel my wrist cramping up. Why were so many people here just to see me? I mean, sure, I know, people like my column. I read my fan mail, it's encouraging. But I'm no Dave Barry. I'm certainly not Ann Landers. But people have taken me into their hearts just the same. And I'm really grateful that so many people out there think so highly of me. I'll try not to let you down. _

_I pulled out my chair and picked up my pen, ready for my fans to come and meet me. Robert took a chair beside me, his hair slicked back. He looked good in a suit. He set a stack of 8 x 10 glossies in front of me. People were going to request a photo of me? It seemed almost too weird. I mean, I'm not much to look at. It's not that I think I'm ugly or anything, but I see ordinary people everyday who are much more glamorous than I am. Maybe this kind of thing just comes with the territory. People like me, they want to know more about me. Plus, the headshot they run in papers rarely does anyone justice. Especially once its put into black and white, ugh. I've never really been very enthusiastic about having my picture taken. The camera usually catches me with my eyes closed. Fortunately, Robert made sure I was well taken care of. This picture was a simple number of me in a white shirt. I was standing to the side with my head turned toward the camera, smiling in an almost seductive way. Dare I say it? I looked almost. . .sexy. I would, of course, find out later that Robert had raided a photo album of Darren's. That would account for the photo, all right. _

_They started letting people in, and I greeted each person with a warm smile. I definitely wasn't used to this kind of fame, but I didn't want to appear nervous. These aren't just readers anymore, now they're paying customers, paying my salary, as it were. And I can't say that I wanted to pass up the opportunity to interact with my readers on a more personal level. _

_As you would probably expect in this sort of situation, I met all kinds. Some were non-committal, barely saying hello. They wanted to get what they came for and get out of there. I respect that. They might not be buying it for themselves, or maybe they're just the type who don't interact with others very well. Most were friendly, they just wanted to take a moment to tell me how much they enjoyed my work, or ask me the usual questions. Oh, that reminds me. Never ask a writer where he or she gets their ideas! Because the truth of the matter is that none of us know. It's all just a part of the creative process, and creativity is a talent. I don't have any special ceremony I go through to figure out what I'm going to write about from week to week. It just comes to me. I couldn't tell you where my inspiration comes from any more than an artist, or a musician, or a sculptor could. If it were possible to put creativity in a bottle, someone would've done it a long time ago and make a fortune. I can tell you that some people consider bottles of "liquid courage" to work just as well for creativity. I've even tried it once or twice myself, but there's nothing I can pinpoint that is a surefire cure for writer's block except time. _

_Anyway, there I was, signing my name to people's books, leaving cute little messages, ditto for the photograph. If you're to believe every book or photo that I signed that day alone, I've got close to three hundred best friends. Silly? Of course. But hey, that's what the public asked for, that's what they got. Besides, I do consider them all my friends. Anyone who reads this column week to week is sharing in my own personal experiences. Be it from the stories I tell, or the rally cries I shout out, or just how I try and explain the way these things get written, you're becoming a part of my life. Welcome to my heart. Pull up a chair. Admission is free. I can answer some of your questions but you might not like the answers. _

_We closed up shop a the end of the day. It had been a good time. Even the people who I felt idolized me a little too much were mostly pleasant. A little unsettling, perhaps, but pleasant. The owner of the store invited us out for dinner at this small place just down the road. It was quaint, the food was good, the portions were large, and the prices reasonable. They also had a nice selection of tea to choose from, which helped after a long day. And I can't tell you how nice it was to eat real food again after all having two meals of fast food on the way down. That didn't stop Robert and I from pulling into a rest area about halfway home for some ice cream, mind you, but I don't really consider that to be fast food._

_So that's it. That's how I spent my Saturday. It was pretty exciting, but since it was after one in the morning when I pulled into my driveway, my homecoming wasn't quite as exciting as it could have been. Darren was asleep on the sofa, apparently he had waited up for me as best he could. Mom didn't have the heart to send him home. I gave mom a sleepy hug. Carl seemed to be at his finest, but then, his kind has always been nocturnal anyway. I woke Darren up and slipped into the kitchen to put some hot chocolate on the stove. Thanksgiving was coming, but it was still a rare occasion that all of us could be found together. We sat around the kitchen table for an hour and a half, talking and laughing about the crazy stuff we did as kids, torturing my poor mother, driving her up the wall. Especially Carl and Robert. They were terrors! Yep, we all knew each other. That's what family is all about. Eventually, Dr. Dave came down to ask what the commotion was about. Someone looked at the clock, and we realized that it was now after 3AM. Were we crazy? We went off to our separate beds, Darren crashed on the couch. And Ginger? Well, Ginger sat down at her desk with her trusty laptop computer and wrote the pages that you (hopefully) just had the pleasure of reading. Right now, birds have just started chirping outside her window, which she's taking as her cue to get a little sleep. I've been up for about twenty-four hours now, so I think it's time that I get myself a little shut-eye. Thanks for staying up with me, everyone. I had a blast!_


	13. Stand By Your Man

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_It's been a long day. I just don't know how else to say it. Okay, guys, this column is for the ladies. So all the men out there, you know I love you, but you might want to sit this one out. Or stay, if you like. But don't say I didn't warn you._

_Okay, girls. Now that we're as alone as we're going to get, I'd like everyone out there who has a boyfriend, fiancé, or husband to raise their hands if you think that they're impossible. Uh-huh, that's what I thought. Let me assure you, ladies, I feel your pain. Allow me to explain._

_Darren wakes me up all frantic this morning about this big job interview he has on Monday. Apparently formal attire is expected, and he doesn't own a suit. Let me put that into clearer perspective for you, girls. My twenty-one year old fiancé doesn't own a suit. Oh, but it gets worse than that. He doesn't know how to shop for one either. In fact, he pretty much needs me to dress him for this thing. Now I'll admit, I know a bit about men's fashion. Definitely a lot more than Darren does. He only has one tie, for goodness' sake! And it doesn't even fit him properly!_

_Well, what else could I do? I was awake, he was asking for my help, I grudgingly agreed to help him out. But I didn't get up right away. After I got off the phone with him, I rolled over and spent another half hour in bed out of spite. I took my sweet time in the shower, too. Finally, about quarter to noon, I pulled into his driveway and picked him up. And then I made him take me out to brunch. That was nice, really. I hadn't been out to a real breakfast in a long time. Usually I just get a bowl of cereal at home. When my day is really stressed, it's fast food to the rescue. But this was really nice. Sit down service from a friendly waitress who managed to bring me my order exactly as I'd asked for it. Experience has taught me that's a very rare thing when it comes to ordering breakfast. There are too many ways to prepare eggs, and everyone seems to interpret them differently. The tea was decent as well, not too strong or weak. But I'm digressing._

_All right, so we had a leisurely brunch, and hit the road at about 1:30 in the afternoon to find my man a suit. It was then that he hit me with the fact that his budget was about thirty dollars. I don't mind telling you that I almost screamed. Where was I going to find a decent looking suit for thirty dollars or less! I pulled the car over into a vacant lot and sat drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. I was supposed to be thinking up ways out of this jam, but I found my thoughts wondering to the various places I could hide Darren's body. Unfortunately, I had breakfast with him in public already, I was established as the last person to see him. Not a good position to find yourself in. I shot Darren a dirty look when he asked me what was wrong, but finally started the car again. I had figured out the solution to our problem!_

_It took nearly an hour to get up to the nearest Goodwill store. Now, if any of you girls have not had the privilege of shopping at Goodwill, then you can't begin to imagine what it's like there on a Saturday. Actually, it's a lot like Wal-Mart, only it's a lot less organized. It's catch as catch can around those places. However, you can find some really nice stuff in there if you're willing to spend some time. And spend time we did. Nearly three and a half hours of time, pulling every suit off the rack that we didn't get beat to. I thought I was going to cry by the end. Would you believe that we just couldn't find one that fit him? They were all either two sizes too small, or else he looked like a small child playing dress up with his father's clothes. But finally, at long last, we found the magic suit. The jacket fit, the pants fit, we didn't care about anything else. It wasn't his best color, but desperate times called for desperate measures! _

_And so, you would think that this tale would now reach it's happy ending. Ha! Yeah, if only! Nothing is ever that easy. We had to get him a dress shirt as well. You'd think that would be the easy part, and it almost was. Darren's never had problems fitting into any of the shirts I've given him. Actually, we didn't pass a single one that was tight on him. Until I tried to button his collar. That was when our day fell apart. We must've tried about twenty-five different shirts that wouldn't button around his neck before I finally gave up on it. I drove us both home and grabbed my tape measure. His neck is nineteen inches. Nineteen inches! It's scandalous! Why hadn't I ever noticed that Darren filled out so much in high school? Or perhaps this was just National Give Ginger A Hard Time Day. At least it would give the banks and post offices another excuse to be closed for the day. Ugh, maybe I'd better not get started on that subject._

_So there we were, off to a Wal-Mart to find him a shirt that fit. At this point, I didn't even expect them to be in stock, but I was pleasantly surprised. We found three shirts that fit him perfectly. All that was left now was the tie. Darren had a tie, but we couldn't possibly get it to come down to his belt properly. Fortunately, we were saved once again by the kids department. They had zipper ties. These have got to be the greatest invention ever made! They look like completely normal ties, only, they just zip up. None of the phony looks you would get from a clip on._

_And so, at long last, the day was over. I really don't know how we managed to pull it off. And I still feel like I could throttle Darren for putting us through this. I mean, honestly, how did he get to be so helpless? Do all men really need this much help getting dress, or did I just get lucky when I picked Darren. Something tells me I'm never going to find out. Oh, right. And when it comes to suits, whose bright idea was it for them not to come in normal sizes? I mean, a woman knows her size, right? I can pick any outfit off the rack and know that it should fit properly, unless someone at the factory mislabeled it, or worse, if I've been denying the fact that I put on a few pounds. Not that I normally put on a lot of weight. Heh heh. . .heh, okay, let's change the subject. Preferably back to what I was ranting about when I started. Men really need our help, don't they? I mean, let's face it. They'd be lost without us. Of course, you just know that they feel the same way about us. I don't pretend to understand the male ego too well, though. And I hope I'm not coming across as bitter. I love Darren, really. Even when he makes me want to slap him upside the head for being such a guy. Maybe that's what love is all about. Or maybe I'm just reaching. When you're as tired as I am, lines like that get way too blurry. Everything starts to seem wonky and out of focus. Although I think a lot of that has to do with the time of year. Halloween had always been a time when crazy stuff can happen for seemingly no reason. Come on, you know you remember scaring yourself out of your wits when you were kids. You had to have. Eh, maybe I'll talk about that after the holiday is over. I scare a little easier than I like. _

_There is a lesson to be learned from all of this, of course. Make sure you own some formal wear. And Darren, if I've left this somewhere you can read it before it goes to press, you'd better get that job on Monday! Because next time, I'm going to make you take me shopping! _

_Okay, everyone, have yourselves a great Halloween. I'll see you back here in seven!_


	14. One Minute At A Time

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Tick, tick, tick. You know what that sound means, don't you? Time's catching up with us again. Last weekend, I got to go through the old turning back the clock's routine. Because there's nothing like looking out your window at 4:30 in the afternoon and noticing that it's pitch black outside. But maybe I shouldn't complain too loudly. It's not like I didn't enjoy wringing that extra hour out of the day all summer. And getting an extra hour of sleep is always nice. Or at least, it would have been if I hadn't sat up half the night with Carl talking about where our lives are going. I didn't want to pass up a chance like that. Carl isn't one for thinking much beyond today, so I felt it was important to encourage him. He says that college is going well, which is definitely good to hear. When I first started attending university, I felt like I was lost. Things just started coming at me so fast. This was a major change in my life. Maybe more than I was ready for. But somehow, I got through it. And I got a few parties under my belt, too._

_So anyway, I woke up on Sunday morning, and of course I was messed up right from the start. I don't care if the clock said it was ten, it felt like it was almost noon! It's already Wednesday, and I'm still not completely adjusted. I feel like I can never get everything done in a day anymore. The sun keeps going down and I still have stuff left to do. The clock says it's only 5PM, but I feel as though it's after seven and I'm late for dinner! And, of course, my car isn't helping me out in that department. I just had to change the time in my car six months ago, and I still can't remember how to do it. Of course, it might help if I had done it myself in the first place. Last May, Robert took pity on me and just changed it while he was sitting in the passenger seat. I should probably dig out my owner's manual and actually keep it in the car, but I guess that would just make too much sense for me. You know how we creative types can be. I guess I'll have to plan another trip with Robert so he can fix my clock. Again. I'm not too proud to admit that I need help with stuff like that. I'm not big on programming electronics. I can do it, sure. But it takes me a long time and then I triple check everything because I just don't trust myself. Darren just pushes a few buttons and we're good to go. Back in high school, he was my computer virtuoso. You'd think I would know how to do more on this thing, but really I just surf the internet and play around in my word processor. I wouldn't know what to do with a database if you gave me step by step instructions. In fact, I'm not even sure what a database is, or why I would ever need to use one. Which is not to knock computers, really. I love my laptop. But aside from the few things that I normally do online and my writing, I'd rather read or watch something decadent on TV than learn some new program. Some people live their entire lives online, and I guess that's okay, if you find it fulfilling. But I'm the type who craves live interaction between my family and friends. Text on a screen can only get you so far. But I suppose that's the way the world works nowadays. Computers do everything for us anyway. It even told me that it was updating its internal clock for daylight savings time. Now that's a clock. It just fixes itself. Why won't the clock in my car do that, to say nothing of my VCR!_

_Tick, tick, tick. The year is passing us by. How did it get to be November already? Next up, the big holiday push. And around the corner, 2006. It doesn't seem like that long ago that we were celebrating the millennium, and now we're this far in. Soon enough, it'll be another decade. It makes me feel old. Does anyone else out there think I'm old? I mean, that girl at the supermarket did call me "ma'am" last week. I'm not even married yet! I'm too young to be a ma'am. . .aren't I? Am I losing touch with my youth? I don't talk to my friends much anymore. Somewhere along the line, we just developed separate lives. I don't know how it happened, but we did. I think it started in high school when things like boys and college became more important than anything else. I was guilty of an on again, off again relationship myself, I'll raise my hand there. I tried to do it all. Take accelerated classes, work on the school newspaper, date on the weekend, find the time to type up lab reports and term papers. . .you know, when it comes right down to it, I'm really not sure how I even survived those years. I must've been crazy. Or maybe we were all crazy. Goodness knows that getting an extra hour of sleep once a year on a Saturday night didn't help me much back then either. Saturday night was my date night, and while I did have a curfew, mom didn't mind if Darren and I were up at one of our homes. I guess that's all part of the privilege of dating someone who lived in the same town. Of course, we weren't always a couple, and in those periods where we were seeing other people, I spent a lot of nights at slumber parties. Hey, boyfriends come and go, but a BFF is forever. It goes with the title, doesn't it? Maybe not lately. I don't know what keeps me from calling my friends, but I just feel like there is a barrier between us. Things just aren't the same as they used to be. I wish I could say that it wasn't my fault, but I have to take some responsibility. I'm as guilty of not calling them as they are of not calling me. Was it just time for us to move on? _

_I know that I'm not the only one going through this. I like to think that I'm pretty mature, but exactly where did my teenage years end and my twenties begin. It's not just a matter of numbers, I know that. It's about what you're doing with your life. But I always feel like I have a foot in each world. I just don't feel like I'm ready to change. I know part of it had to do with my job. I'm writing. My job is my creative outlet. I get paid to do what I love. And I think that enables me to be immature when I feel like it. I don't have to dress up everyday. I only dress to impress when I need to go see Courtney. I don't know about when I do something public. I kept it casual the last time I did a signing. My only signing, so far. I don't know when my next one will be. I'll have to talk with Courtney about it. But she's been a bit distant lately. Every time I e-mail her, I get a curt response. I don't think that she's mad at me, but I guess she's troubled. I know that running a publishing house isn't how she envisioned her life turning out. She works with what she has. If there's one thing I can say about Courtney, it's that she never gives up. That's just not who she is. I know that as unique as her life is, I wouldn't want to be Courtney Gripling. And I can say that because I've done it. Yes, you heard me right, but it's a long story, and I think I'm already approaching the word limit for one week. See, it's like I told you. This column stuff isn't as easy as it looks. If it's too short, complaints come in about how the newspapers aren't getting their money's worth. If I yak for too long, then they complain that my column is crowding other stuff off the page. Ha! And you thought it was all glamour, didn't you? It's crazy, take my word for it. And as a writer, there's nothing worse than knowing that you've written something bad. So I'm always challenging myself so that I'll grow and exceed the expectations people put on me. Eh, it's a living. And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. _


	15. Worth Fighting For

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_I'm just going to come right out and say it. It's not easy being a girl. In fact, I'm not sure if I ever got a hang of the whole thing completely. Ironically, it's not really anyone's fault. But I never really figured out the social structure. Or more accurately, I never really learned how to successfully navigate the female social structure without compromising my integrity. _

_I don't know why this is, but women seem to have trouble getting along with each other. I never saw it this way with guys. And I'm not trying to put anyone down. But guys seem to have the whole friendship thing worked out to a science. There's just certain, unspoken things that guys don't do to each other. If someone does, that's usually the end of the friendship. But with girls, things are usually more dramatic. Guys don't hang out with other guys they don't like. Most women I know, myself included, aren't quite so heartless, and we will engage ourselves with people we might outright dislike. So then what happens when things go south? We end up having a fight, not wanting to be friends anymore. But then we will anyway. From what I've learned, it's that men don't forgive and don't forget. Women forgive, but don't forget. Maybe we just like the drama, but it's true. I've gotten into some really nasty situations with people I consider to be my best friends. And maybe we could put things together again later. . .but it wasn't quite the same. Does this make us any more evolved?_

_Does anyone know why we're like this? Is it some kind of innate thing we can't control? Is it locked into our gender? I just don't know. I like to think that I'm better than that. I don't really consider myself one of those bra burning feminists, but the differences between men and women never seemed to be such a big deal to me. Sure, we're different. Women are better than men at lots of stuff. And there's some things that men just do better. It's not a contest, it's just, well, maybe it's like that for a reason. Maybe it's because together we make a complete species, a complete bond. I've always had that feeling when I'm in love, that this is the person who will fill in my gaps, who will complete me. I've been with different guys in my life, no two of them the same. And each one made me feel, well, different. I don't know how many times I've truly been in love. I've had plenty of crushes, yes. But love is so much better. . .and sometimes, so much worse. _

_There are times when I've really been worried about being in love. I didn't feel safe or warm or reassured. I felt naked and exposed, insecure about things lasting. And sometimes. . .too often, really, I was right. I'm still not sure why Darren and I put each other through everything that we did when we were younger. We were friends, good friends. But as usually happens between boys and girls at that difficult age, we agreed to throw that away in favor of something greater. And it was. To this day, even if I knew everything that would happen between us in the future, especially with my friends, well, I wouldn't change things. I would return his initial feelings. Willingly, and without any resistance. And it saddens me to know that we put each other through so much high school crap. We didn't keep our promises. We had wandering eyes and gave into our weaknesses. Even after everything we gave up for what we thought was love. No, that's not right. It was love, even then. We were just too stupid and immature to give it a real chance. But if we had to make mistakes, I'm glad it was then. Life is a learning process, right? And that's exactly what it was for us. _

_Eventually, we learned to get our stuff together. But it didn't happen overnight. Sometimes it takes a few tries to get things right. You have to push yourself, dedicate yourself. Set goals and work towards them. And I decided that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life being bitter about the stupid an immature things that we did to each other in high school. I read once that true love doesn't keep a slop bucket lying around. You know what I mean. Ammunition. Keeping track of everything your significant other did that was wrong or stupid and then throwing it back in their face when you have a fight. When you really love someone, you do forgive and forget. You don't keep score. And that's the kind of relationship that I'm slowly putting together. Being in love isn't easy, let me tell you. It can be pretty exciting, but it can really cost you if you aren't careful. Too often, when love is new, we give ourselves to it completely, and we don't see the things that we should. Only too late do we realize that we thought was love is really just a crush, an infatuation, or worst of all, lust. And it's just so easy to delude ourselves over these types of things. When it comes to romance, most of us have a nasty habit of only seeing what we want to see. And that's understandable. When you really like someone, you tend to overlook their faults. And if they care for you in the same way, they'll overlook yours as well. But that's also how incompatible couples that can't make it also get started. And sometimes you have to go through that. Love, like life, is a learning process. How many people can honestly say that they've only been in love once. People over the age of twenty. Not many, and I don't doubt that some of them would be lying. Maybe that's a little harsh, but I hate to see people make decisions that they shouldn't based purely on love._

_Does that make me a hypocrite? I'm the one who threw away a friendship with a great guy so I could be his girlfriend instead. It might not have been the wisest thing I could've done in life. Truthfully, it ended up buying us just as much pain as it did happiness. And yet, as I stated, if I had it to do all over again, I would. What can I say, love does crazy things to me. I guess Darren does some pretty crazy things to me too. He has this really clever thing he does with my feet when I'm feeling down and, well, maybe I'll just leave that one to your imagination. _

_Now I'm not even sure if I'm making sense anymore. But that doesn't surprise me. If love were supposed to make sense, then I think all the romance would be taken out of it. Talk about defeating the whole purpose. Maybe it's meant to drive us crazy. Maybe we weren't intended to have any control over it. We're just supposed to follow our instinct, follow our heart, and give into the feeling, whatever may come. This is who we are as a species, and who am I to dispute that? I certainly know that I'd never want to be accused of trying to hold up the whole process. I consider myself to be a romantic at heart. I believe in love. I have to believe. Because with all the mistakes that I've made as a person, that we've all made as a society, I just have to believe that things can be better. That we're all fundamentally good. And if we aren't able to love, then what hope is there for us?_

_Do you love someone? Then go tell them right now. If you've always been afraid to tell someone how you feel, then you should go tell them. You'll only make yourself a better person for it. Believe in love. It's real, and it's waiting for you._


	16. Put On A Sweater

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_The weather's turning cold again. I don't know why I should be surprised. You know what Mark Twain said about New England? "If you don't like the weather, wait around a few minutes, it'll change." Truer words were never spoken. I guess this one's for all my friends who live in other parts of the country. Hi, how are you? Let me tell you a little about what it's like to live up here in the Northeast. You get the full gamut of weather. Rain, sleet, snow, hail, freezing rain, you name it, we get it. It gets unbearably hot in the summer and we freeze in the winter. Spring and Autumn are brisk. We never really know what to expect from them. For the last five years, we haven't really had a spring. The winter would cling right into the beginning of May, giving us some unbelievably frosty nights. And then you'd come out and the temperature would be eighty-six degrees. What happened to those beautiful days when it was in the seventies? We don't get many of those anymore. Now if I step out onto my back porch at night, I can see my breath. A few weeks ago, we had the first killing frost. Winter again. It's not that I hate winter, it's pretty hard to live in New England if you do! But the problem with winter is that once it's here, it takes a very long time to go away. Connecticut doesn't have mild winters. Worse, we're on the border. This isn't the extreme north, so we don't get as much snow as say Maine or Vermont. But we do get a lot of it. And being above New York, the temperature has a tendency to hover around the freezing mark, which can make the roads really treacherous. Once or twice, I've ended up doing a 360 on a back road. That's never fun. This is the time of year when people want to run out and buy four wheel drives. I've never really felt the need for one. They go great in the snow, but if you grow up here, you learn to drive in that pretty fast. And ice? Forget it. I don't care what you're driving on. When you've got no traction, then you're just spinning four tires instead of two. Not exactly good odds in my book. What's with those commercials anyway? They always show these people driving up mountains and under lakes and making vertical ascents. Who are they kidding?_

_Maybe that's the whole point of advertising. It's just there to get us to buy into something that's essentially a lie. What a travesty! And the worst part is that we fall for it! We buy the stupidest products, do the lamest stuff, all because we think it's going to improve our chances of making it with the opposite sex. Right. When did we become so gullible? _

_But the worst part is that I'm not any less guilty than anyone else. Goodness knows that I've bought the strangest outfits because I thought they made me look more attractive. Changed my hair, bought ridiculous makeup, tortured myself. . .and for what? A lighter wallet and the usual disappointment. Filling the void with a bunch of nonsense. That's not the way to happiness. Why do we always think that? Why are we always so willing to believe that there's some quick fix to our problems, some product that we can buy to make all the bad things go away? Why do we always think it's so easy? Is it a basic need of ours? Do we need to make our lives easier, more manageable? Heh, do I even need to ask? Of course we do. But why? What is it that compels us to seek these meaningless forms of instant gratification, these chasings after the wind? Why can't we wait for results in life anymore? Is this what we've become? This society of fast food and easy answers? Why do we have to make our lives so convenient?_

_This isn't the way life was meant to be, I know it. Life isn't about easy answers. We weren't made to have everything handed to us without any work. Life is supposed to be an adventure. It's supposed to be about hard work, about making ourselves better people. But now we've lost that edge. We don't work as hard as we were meant to. We have machines, we have other people, we have an entire system in place to keep us on our lazy butts as much as possible. I should know. I got on the scale before my shower this morning and almost screamed. Okay, maybe it's not that bad. Maybe it's only a couple of pounds. But it's still paunch I don't need. I'm supposed to be losing weight so I can squeeze (or maybe I should be saying " pour") myself into my wedding dress. But I've been so busy lately, I've been frequenting the fast food joints a lot. "Making the rounds," as my mother used to say. A few weeks of that and not exercising, and it isn't pretty. Fortunately, I think I'll be okay. All I've got to do is watch what I eat and spend a little time at the gym. This time. I'm still young. But what am I going to do when I'm middle aged?_

_This is supposed to be the best part of my life. I'm in my twenties, my physical peak. My metabolism will never be better. Why does that make me nervous instead of reassuring me? If I'm at my peak now, what am I going to be like when I'm middle-aged? Am I going to have to watch everything I eat? Am I going to have to make a choice between food and my figure? _

_Okay, I had to take a time out there. I'm taking myself way too seriously again. I mean, who am I kidding?! I'm way too young to be obsessing over my figure! I'm not even that kind of girl! But I'm doing it anyway. Just goes to show that I'm not immune to the pitfalls of our society. I can get just as tripped up as anybody else. But I suppose that's what makes me human. After all, a big part of that is making mistakes, right? We all make mistakes._

_Does anyone else out there feel like I lost my point somewhere around here? Is this less of a column and more of a diary entry? Wouldn't be the first time. For some reason, I've never had a problem sharing all this stuff about myself with everyone out there. Maybe it's just good for me. I need to be able to let all of this stuff out. It sure as heck beats bottling it all up inside. It's cheaper than seeing a therapist, too. Maybe it's just my way of trying to cope with, well, everything I_ _guess. There's no easy way through life, you just have to go with it. Roll with the punches, and watch out for the stumbling blocks you know affect you the worst. Me, I think my biggest problem is that I'm not good at saying no. And sometimes, that means I let people walk all over me. People I don't like, or would just rather not deal with. But because I can be so non-confrontational, I turn my world upside-down. And sometimes, my anger can become so self-righteous that I might not recognize that maybe this isn't the best time to be preaching a message. Hey, I'm not perfect. I've been known to serve a detention or two. And then there was that whole time I got arrested in the seventh grade, but maybe that's a story I'd better leave under wraps. I wouldn't want people thinking less of me!_

_But the weather is turning cold again. Time to get your winter coat out of the attic and put it on. Otherwise, we make ourselves susceptible to the wind and all its fury. _


	17. Name Them One By One

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_So, here it is again. Thanksgiving. A time for counting our blessings. A time for sharing. A time when your whole family gathers around one table overflowing with food to stuff their faces and remind themselves why they had scattered in the first place. Normally, it's not so bad. But when you're engaged, well, it kind of sparks a big debate. When it comes to the holidays, parents invariably play a role. No one wants to disappoint Mom. And both sets of parents expect you to come. Which, of course, means that you have to let someone down. Or separate for the holiday. Neither one of which is a very preferable solution. But either way, it's bound to build up some enmity with your in-laws. _

_Of course, you could be as fortunate as I am. If you are, then you grew up next door to your fiancé, so you don't have to worry about all that. Instead, you get a whole new problem. How do you get the Pattersons and the Foutleys around one table! Oh, yes. And a Bishop. Robert's coming too. He begged me! That boy is terrified of his mother, let me tell you. Umm. . .Mrs. Bishop? If you're reading this, I hope you're not taking that personally. But if you are, well, I'm sorry if Carl and I stressed you out when we were kids. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive us. Especially Carl. I know it must be hard to believe, but he actually turned out all right. I guess a little class did him some good. It's not that he's completely changed, just that he's a little more adept at separating his personal activities from his school or job ones. And despite any influence Carl might've had, Robert turned out great. Your son and I have a close working relationship. And since we've known each other for most of our lives, we get along well. Robert's a total professional, and we've kind of reached this point where we're on the same wavelength. I don't have to ask him for much, he usually has everything done. He knows what I'm going to ask before I ever get the chance to and takes care of it. Plus, whenever I do signings, he always knows the best places to eat. He's really been my right hand, as far as what I affectionately refer to as my "writing life" goes. He is a part of my family, and I'm happy to have him. And I miss Dodie too. I don't know if we're fighting or what. I don't even know if she reads these stupid little columns. But you're invited too, Dode. You always have been._

_I'm actually being a little more productive than usual today. Multi-tasking was never a strong suit of mine. Normally, whenever I try to mix writing and anything else, the writing doesn't really get done. Today seems like a better day than most, though. I'm cooking up a lasagna for tomorrow. And as soon as the oven is free, my pumpkin pie is going in. Of course, if Darren comes over tonight, he's going to have to deal with me not cooking. I'm not a machine! I'm getting tired of the kitchen already! Either he takes me out to a restaurant, or we make do with a TV dinner! Between you and me, I've already got mine picked out just in case. I have a stash for just such emergencies. But anyway, at least I was able to find a corner where my laptop fits. I was really starting to sweat about getting this thing done on time. I haven't felt this kind of crunch since I was in college, doing term papers. Only this is a little worse. The cruelest professors wouldn't grant extensions. And just between you and me, my professors always felt that my work was worth waiting for. Unfortunately, things don't quite work that way in the real world. If I don't turn this thing in on schedule, all heck breaks loose. Courtney doesn't really appreciate having to explain to her clients why they aren't receiving the product that they paid for. I wouldn't want to do that either, to tell the truth. I think I'll try to stay on this side of the business._

_What the heck, I've got twenty minutes until my lasagna is done, I might as well tell you a story. I think it's relevant. I did miss my deadline once. It couldn't be helped. I was in an accident. Nothing too serious. But witnesses called an ambulance anyway. I twisted my ankle. And considering how my mom is a nurse, and my stepfather is a doctor, and they both work in the local hospital, well let's just say they fussed over me far more than was really necessary. They decided to keep me overnight for observation. Of course, Courtney needs my column by 9AM the next day, and I hadn't even started it yet. Oh yeah, that was awkward. What can I say? I think I work better under pressure. I called Courtney and explained the situation. Needles to say, she was pretty frazzled. She hung up on me rather quickly. I felt bad, too. I didn't mean to let her down. It just, well, happened. But I never should've underestimated the indomitable spirit of Courtney Gripling. She found a way. Believe it or not, she sent Dodie down to the hospital. To take dictation from me. I remember it clearly, because I had to keep repeating myself. But eventually, we got it done, although I don't think that Dodie appreciated my creative process very much. It might have had something to do with the face that I tend to mutter to myself a lot when I'm thinking. It helps to keep me focused. It also drives a person taking dictation crazy. Especially when that person is doing it by hand. But we did get through it, and Dodie whisked herself to the office in the middle of the night to get my words typed up. Faithful to a fault. I would find out after checking on the Sunday paper that she had changed my words. She—changed—my--words. That's about the worst thing you can do to a writer. I guess that's why we haven't been talking since. I was pretty upset at the time. Normally, I'm not one to let the sun go down on my anger. But in this case, I made an exception._

_This is what I need to be thankful for. Good friends and good family. And I feel that it's high time that I swallow my pride and give my BFF an invitation to our Thanksgiving dinner. And maybe take the time to apologize. After all, the spirit of the original Thanksgiving centered around cooperation between European settlers and Native Americans. Dodie and I aren't nearly so different! So if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make, and some crow to eat. Happy Thanksgiving!_


	18. Perception Is Reality

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_Being Ginger Foutley is an experience all its own, and I wouldn't trade it for anything this world has to offer. I know, because I did it once. Yup, I'm feeling nostalgic today. Take it as a warning if my adolescent stories get to you._

_Throughout junior high school, I enjoyed a very special relationship with Courtney Gripling, the undisputed crown princess of Lucky Junior High. Every girl wanted to be Courtney. Every boy wanted to date her. Most of us girls just settled for getting a hello out of her. Recognition was everything. She was something else. Still is. And the boys, ha! Courtney was out of their league, but they still fought for the privilege to date someone in her circle. Many tried, few succeeded. I, on the other hand, got to be Courtney._

_Yes, you heard me right. Courtney became indisposed at a socially critical time, and appointed me as her replacement. And it was complete. For those few days Ginger Foutley ceased to exist. I only responded to the name Courtney. I didn't just talk the talk, I walked the walk. A little too well, according to my friends. Apparently they didn't appreciate me going over to the dark side. When I looked back, I didn't like who I had become either. So I changed. I forced the real Courtney into a position where she had to come back. I made her realize how unique she was. And now, if she's reading this, she knows the truth. But I think it's time for her to know. I learned a new respect for Courtney that week. I guess you could say that I found out that there are depths to shallowness. If being popular is a world all its own, then being the queen is like living in another universe. It really isn't what I'm cut out for. _

_But sometimes, things cut two ways. Courtney got a taste of the way I live once. Her mother was in the hospital, recovering from some simple plastic surgery. She developed some kind of infection that needed to be treated. And so I took pity on Courtney, she seemed so lonely. I told her she could stay with us. As it turned out, it wasn't one of my prouder moments in life. When I'm really honest, I acted like a spoiled brat. I became jealous. Not of her money, or her social standing. It was the way she got along so well at my mom. I just felt like she was taking something away from me, something I wouldn't be able to get back. Jealousy doesn't suit me very well, but there it was. I drove a wedge between Courtney and myself, and I rescinded my invitation. I made her leave. And yet, Courtney decided to overlook my cruelty, which proved what a good person she really is. It wasn't the only time she chose to extend a similar courtesy to me, but then, I did save her bacon plenty of times in those days, socially speaking. She owed me a few indulgences. _

_Anyway, what I'm trying to explain is that I have some experience with seeing how the other half lives. Being at the top of the social structure is a really hard job. Everyone wants a piece of you. Everyone expects you to have all the answers. Come to think of it, people still expect that of me now. It might have something to do with my line of work. There's a lot of people out there who ask me the craziest stuff, wanting me to answer it in my column. Apparently there are those who still subscribe to the theory that the newspapers can't print things that aren't true. If only that was the way things are! But I'm afraid if that were true, the political landscape would change overnight, not to mention the economy. Heck, our whole way of life would be turned upside down. But then again, I could be wrong. When I was growing up, my teachers couldn't help but notice that I stood up for truth, justice, and equality. I always believed that everyone deserved a fair shake. That the kids who misbehaved were falling through the cracks in the system. And I still believe in those values. They are worth preserving. Only when I went to college, I learned a few things about truth. The most important discovery I made is that truth is subjective. Trust me on this one. Spend some time in a philosophy class, and it shatters a few of your illusions. Soon enough, you'll find yourself looking at the world in different ways than you did before you started, which, of course, is the point of the whole thing. It's kind of a rude awakening when you realize that everyone else in the world is as stubborn and rigid as you are. Okay, I know, not exactly a new concept. Of course I already knew that, intellectually speaking. But knowing it and absorbing it are two entirely different matters. The things that other people believe in are the truth to them, just as the stuff I believe in is the truth to me. It all comes down to ourselves, who we are. And when you look at what a crazy place the world has evolved into, that's when it all begins to make a lot of sense._

_Don't believe me? Take your average, small child as an example. That child very likely believes in Santa Claus. But what becomes of him as he grows older? He might begin to outgrow the notion of a fat man in a red suit who sneaks down people's chimneys to eat cookies, drink milk, and leave toys. Or perhaps one of the other children at school will tell him that there's no such thing as Santa Claus. If the child stops believing, then the truth has changed for this kid. Once, Santa was real. But now he is a sham. What's more, the child may lose faith in the people who taught him to believe in Santa to begin with. While it's true that our perceptions of reality are rarely the truth, they are all we really have. The human mind is largely incapable of thinking of the world beyond our own perceptions. We lose our frame of reference when we do. What's more, these perceptions are the truth to us. We know only what our senses tell us. Science has proven that the earth is round. But does it feel round to you? Of course not. It's flat to us. We just intellectually accept that the earth is round. We ignore our perceptions. To be honest, the only time I ever perceive the earth is round is when I stare straight up into the blue sky, and it looks as though I'm inside of a giant astrodome. Our perceptions become our truth, our reality. And if this is the case, then the question we have to ask ourselves is this: Are there any absolute truths to believe in? I like to think so. Just because something is beyond our perception, doesn't make it any less real. The key is that we have to be open to it, to look beyond ourselves. Sure, it isn't easy, but it's all part of the challenge. And it just might help to make the world a better place. Or at least bring you some comfort when you're standing in long lines, doing your holiday shopping. _

_What do you think? Too far out there? Okay, maybe. I never really know where I'm going with these things until I'm finished, but I guess that's all part of being a writer. Like procrastination. I've gotten really good at that. Tomorrow is always another day. Until you're staring at a blank page, three hours before the deadline, wondering what the heck you were thinking all week! Yeah, that's me all over. Of course, there are some pretty good benefits to this job. Besides being able to do it all at the last minute, I also get to share some of our most embarrassing family secrets with the world. I'm sure that I'll have some for you soon enough. That is, when I get tired of telling stories about myself. Or just making stuff up. What! Don't look at me like that! It comes with the territory! How would you like being asked to entertain people on a weekly basis! But I'm still getting something out of it, trust me. You're all very supportive, so thanks for that. _

_You know me, I like to make everyone's day a little more fun, give you something to smile about. In this day and age, we can all use a bit more of that, no question. So try to keep your holiday spirit as we dive into the shopping season. The life you spare may be mine!_


	19. The Reason For The Season

Hello, Strangers

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

"_It doesn't matter how sincere it is_

_Or how heartfelt the spirit_

_Sentiment will not endear it_

_What's important is, the price."_

_--Tom Lehrer_

"_A Christmas Carol"_

_Okay, so I know what you're thinking, but unfortunately, it's often the truth at this time of year. Sometimes we get so caught up in the tradition of gift giving that nothing else about this day seems to matter. And I hate that. Now, before everyone groans about another message denouncing the commercialization of Christmas, hear me out. That's not really what this is about. I'm not going to tell you that the stores are ruining Christmas, or to take up arms in the war against Christmas, or any of that. It might seem a little out of character for me not to, but there's already a hundred other people out there willing to do that. I don't want to be just another voice in the throng, I prefer to be on the front lines. So instead, I'm going to talk a bit about family, because that's what this is all about._

_Here we are again, it's late at night on Christmas Eve. Well, okay, not really. I'll confess that I wanted to spend some time with my own family, so I handed this into Courtney on Wednesday. Plus, the newspapers are delivering the Sunday edition on Saturday this week because of the holiday. But for the sake of argument, let's all just make believe. It's more fun that way, right? _

_So instead I'm going to talk to you for a bit on what I feel Christmas is all about. Now I've never been very good at practicing religion, but I do firmly believe that the original meaning beyond Christmas was meant to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Now, I know there's a lot of controversy over that, and plenty of people willing to come forth with their talk about how it was made to convert pagans to Christianity, and the Jesus couldn't have been born in December, and all that. And they're probably right. But it shouldn't matter. The point is, this is the time of year when we have elected to celebrate that birth. _

_Okay, fine. So that's all well and good. But what about people that aren't into Christianity? Well, in the world we live in, there's plenty more to Christmas than an infant in a manger. The national government lists Christmas as a national holiday. Most of us get the day off, and those that don't are raking in some serious cash. But whether you observe Christmas religiously or not, what do we do on Christmas Day? Well, I personally like to spend it with my family and my friends, the people that mean the most to me. Traditionally, we exchange gifts, a ceremony grounded both in the story of the Magi and also from other winter holidays that Christmas essentially absorbed. It's supposed to be a time of year when we show one another how much we care by giving presents to each other. But to me, it's never been about the presents. It's about the people. And even though I don't expect most people to believe me, it really does feel better to give than to receive. I like to see my mother's face light up when I give her something complex that took me a while to put together. Like the year I bought her a tea set but every piece was from a different place and had a certain theme. Sure, she enjoyed the present, but I think what really made her happy is knowing that I took the time to think about what I wanted to get for her. When I was younger, I used to exchange a lot of handmade stuff with my best friends Dodie and Macie. I used to think that these were the kinds of things that helped cement our bonds of friendship. Now I wonder if we'd have been better off using actual cement. But that's another story for another time._

_What do you think of when you hear the word Christmas? Carols? Presents? Family? A big dinner? What does the holiday mean to you? It's so engrained in a culture that I don't personally know a single person who doesn't celebrate it at least secularly. Radio stations play holiday songs all day long. You can't get away from the advertisements to buy stuff. The store hours get longer and longer all the way up to Christmas Eve. The lines get longer. The parking spaces shrink in size and number. By the time we get to the week before Christmas, there's this big part of me that's just ready for the whole thing to be over already. But somehow, I forge ahead anyhow. It's important to keep yourself going. I made the mistake of getting lazy one year and putting everything off until this week. Boy, was that a mistake! I've never regretted something so much! Trust me, you don't want to put yourself through that kind of hassle. It's the kind of mistake you only make once, and that's enough to make you start swearing by mail order catalogs. And there's definitely something to be said for those people who have all of their shopping done before Thanksgiving. Maybe that is the best way to go. I've never tried it before. But then, I'm usually busy trying to do about fifty other things every week. Christmas rarely even enters my mind until the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. The day the world goes out to cram as much shopping into one day. Ironically, it's probably the day that's about as far removed from the Christmas spirit as you can get. When people start coming to blows about who gets the last throw blanket, you know that things have gotten out of hand. _

_Filling out Christmas cards, there's a part I really like! Ha! It drives me crazy, honestly. I always end up with writer's cramp by the time I'm done. I wonder if this age of computers has made me soft on stuff like that. But somehow, a Christmas e-mail seems to lack the personal touch I always try to go for. This column feels much more genuine to me, because it's from the heart and sent out to everyone. Something to be read at Christmas time, the only gift I really have to offer all of my fans. I only wish it could be more. But when you push your deadline as much as I do, your options become kind of limited._

_I'm staring outside. The moon is waning. The trees are still snow crested. Every so often, the wind howls, letting me know just how cold it is out there. But we're warm in here. The thermostat is turned up, we've got our blankets, and most importantly, we have each other. For better or for worse, we're family. Sometimes that's all you have. But when you're lucky, that's all you need. Merry Christmas, everyone, wherever you are. _


	20. There Is A Season

Hello, Strangers

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_There's something about a new year that always strikes a chord with me. No matter how things went over the last twelve months, we've got the chance to start over again with a clean slate. Some years, I need that fresh start more than ever. The last one was pretty turbulent for me. Maybe it's because I'm reaching a crossroads in my life where I'll have to start deciding what I'm going to do with it. Don't get me wrong, telling all of you stories and anecdotes each week is rewarding. It's not everyone who is blessed with the opportunity to get paid for doing what they love. Maybe that's what has me worried. It all seems too weird, too easy. Like somehow I'm taking the easy way out. I don't want to be accused of being lazy. I haven't really done anything resembling work since I was in high school. I know, that's probably not the best way to endear myself to a lot of you, but sometimes, the truth is more important. I've got to take off the fancy dress and reveal the shy suburban girl underneath sooner or later. It might as well be now._

_Sorry I've been away for a few weeks, but I've been indulging myself in the lethargy that always seems to come after the holidays are over. I helped Mom take the Christmas tree down, and I packed away my Menorah for another year. Once we finished putting away the rest of the holiday knick-knacks and putting the living room furniture back to normal, it began to sink in. When it's all said and done, all that's left is winter. Snow that used to be beautiful and magical suddenly becomes just a nuisance. The cold loses its charm and we're all begging for warmer weather. It's a little bit sad and melancholy. I guess I'd never really given the feeling a lot of attention in the past, but this year, everything seems to be magnified. I spent some time wondering what makes this year any different, and I've come to the dubious conclusion that, well, I'm getting old! I know, scary thought, right?_

_I remember earlier this week, when the weather warmed up a bit during the daytime, I climbed up onto the roof with my guitar and just started playing. I was pretty sad to discover that I couldn't play any of my old songs anymore. I guess my talent for the instrument is waning. But it's my own fault, I didn't keep up with it as much as I should have. I guess it's a good thing I never set out to be a rock star. I'm happy just being who I am. But I've always liked playing. It definitely got me through some of the rougher waters of adolescence. But then, being a teenager always seems difficult when you are one. Only too late, I've just now realized how easy I had it. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. You wake up one day and realize to your horror that you've become your parents. Only Tuesday I was getting so frustrated paying my bills. I keep wondering how I spend all this money every month, turns out I'm nickeling and diming myself into a pretty big hole. But Mom said something to me that I need to learn to remember. Instead of complaining about paying my bills, I should be thankful that I have the money to pay them. And she would know, because more than once, she's sat looking at bills she couldn't pay. I haven't had to face that yet. I hope I never have to, but I'm a bit of a realist. Especially if I get married. Managing my own finances is tricky enough, soon enough I'll have a husband, and eventually we'll have children and have to file for bankruptcy! Maybe I should take on a second job to earn more money. But it looks like putting on a concert is out. Hey, if I put on a bake sale, will anyone out there make the trip?_

_But all kidding aside, I'm not sure what I should do next. Darren is taking two extra classes for fun at a local community college now that he's about to graduate. He only has one real course this semester before he gets his diploma. We're shopping around for a hall we can hold our wedding reception in, we want to take the plunge and set a date. We're not in a rush, but one of the things Darren and I promised each other on Christmas Eve is that we wouldn't become one of those couples that stays engaged for like three years. Of course, with Darren working and going to school, I usually only see him once during the week and on weekends. I don't really have a lot to do with myself. Sometimes I get in my car and I just drive. I retrace old school bus routes I used to travel along as a child. I've got a copy of the theme from 'Mahogany' by Diana Ross that plays as I roll down back roads with bare trees. "Do you know where you're going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to? Do you know?" And when I'm perfectly honest with myself, I find that I don't know. It's not that I'm unhappy, I'm just not certain what I should be doing with my life. I read Macie's postcards and I'm left with this feeling that I haven't really accomplished anything since high school. It's not a feeling that I'm accustomed to. I was always the girl who worked hard and played hard. Now I don't really know what to expect, what my next move should be. I feel as though I'm lacking something, that I've become fundamentally flawed. Only I don't know what's missing. But I guess none of this is either here or there. It's kind of a dirty trick for me to start moaning about my personal problems when I'm supposed to be entertaining you. I guess all those years of keeping a journal just make this stuff start to flow out of me whenever I pick up a pen. _

_I've been thinking about just getting away from here for awhile. Throwing my laptop and a suitcase into my Honda and just driving with no real purpose or destination. Maybe a change of scenery would do me some good. Courtney might not like it, though. But hey, with all I've done for her over the years, I figure that she owes me a favor or two. Besides, shaking up my normal routine will let a breath of fresh air into my life, not to mention my writing. I think that I'll relish the chance to write to you while sitting in a strange café or bar. A little ambience never hurts. And if I don't make myself get my act together, who will? I suppose I could always pour coffee for a living. I only say that because I actually look pretty good in one of those fancy aprons they make you wear. Another long story I'll have to remember to tell another time. _

_Okay, now I'm just starting to indulge myself again. I pride myself on knowing when it's best to put my work down and go have some fun. Or maybe I'm just giving into those obnoxious winter doldrums. They certainly seem to know all of my weak spots, but then, I haven't yet met anyone who is immune to them. Maybe it's best to think of them as the world's subtle way of reminding us to do something with our lives. So don't be surprised if I'm coming at you from location next week. Wherever I may end up, I promise to keep things adventurous. _

_All right, I'm out of here. I'll see you all next week. Just don't forget to leave something in my tip jar on your way out. Preferably something I can spend._


	21. North By Northeast

Hello, Strangers

_Hello, Strangers! _By Ginger Foutley

_I knew I had arrived when I came across a solitary little place with a sign out front that read "General Store." I'd been driving down some lonely state roads, going through nothing but forests for nearly an hour. This is what I was looking for. I pulled into the General Store and got myself a few supplies. Not too much. A twelve pack of Diet Coke, some snacks, and a few TV dinners in case I had trouble finding a decent restaurant, or just decided to stay reclusive. I asked the proprietor about places to stay, and she directed me to this lovely little bed and breakfast. Turns out, it's a cabin on a lake. A big lake. And a big cabin. This room is bigger than the one I have at home! The bed's a little more comfy too. My Capital One card already has smoke coming off of it. But I guess that's the way it is when you travel. I almost didn't get off the bed this evening. It's clear and cold and we're getting some snow. Nothing I'm too afraid of, and I can get a ride if I have any trouble. _

_Oh, right. Where am I? Right now, I'm sitting in a rustic cafe. It's kind of like something you see out of a movie. Everything is made of wood. The lighting is dim. It's cold and dark outside, a light snow is falling outside the window. There's some live entertainment, just a local musician who plays these soothing, instrumental melodies. I've got my latte next to me, and I'm typing away on my laptop. I'm probably not getting very much work done. I'm making judicious use of the wireless connection in here. But this is about as sleepy a town as you can find. And that's exactly what I'm looking for. It's quiet here. Just what I need. A place where I can get away from it all, stop thinking about everything at once and just breathe, sort my thoughts and get my direction. It's a little scary to be as old as I am and still have no idea exactly who Ginger Foutley is. And I want to be able to answer that question with confidence before I change my name to Ginger Patterson. I want to know what I'm getting into, and let Darren know what he's signing up for. _

_Already I can say one thing for certain. I like this. The whole atmosphere is starting to bring back memories for me. It reminds me so much of being at the Avalanche Arts Academy. I went there for a whole semester back when I was in Junior High School. I have a lot of memories from that place, some better than others. And even though there are some things I'd rather forget. . .I have to admit that there is a small part of me that always wondered what would've happened if I had chosen to stay there. I find myself thinking of these things a lot lately, going over all the major decisions in my life, questioning whether or not I made the right choice. The hardest thing is that maybe there isn't a real way to know. Which is why I probably shouldn't obsess over these kinds of things to begin with, but here I am anyway. I guess maybe it's just human nature. This is the kind of thing we do. The whole world's crazy, right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. _

_So really, who am I? I'm the girl with red, curly hair who just kicked her sneakers off in a public cafe because she doesn't care what people think of her. I'm the girl with a strong value system that I'm willing to walk the line for even though it often lands me into trouble. I'm the girl that somehow manages to turn out stuff that people want to read even after I question the entertainment. Seriously people, what's up with that? Um, not that I'm complaining, but your devotion to my column and my books is really overwhelming. When I get the quarterly sales figures, sometimes I have do a double-take. And it's not as though I'm getting rich or anything. I'm making a living, and I'm fine with that. I didn't take up writing to become a millionaire. I don't even own a house! But I guess I just never expected to get this far. You have to understand that often times, the stuff I write here is stuff I would've just scribbled into a journal and forgotten about. The writing is the release. Or at least, it used to be. Now I'm not so certain anymore. Things have changed. I find that I look forward to things like fan mail and book signings. You all make me feel like a contributing member of society, like I have a reason and purpose. I guess that's one of those fundamental things that everyone seeks. I still don't even know just what it is about me that people seem to like so much. Do I just have one of those faces? Does my voice really come through in my writing? Do I make people comfortable by sharing my life experiences. If so, maybe I'm the one taking comfort. If anyone else out there is leading the kind of crazy life that I am, then I already feel better. Maybe I'm not such a hopeless case after all._

_The snow is still falling outside. Each little snowflake unique in its own way. And so are we. But each snowflake is nothing alone. They have to chain themselves together to make a difference, weaving a tapestry to blanket our lawns and streets and mountains and rooftops. They each join together to form something greater. Is that, then, what our true purpose in life is? A brotherhood of men and women that ultimately help us achieve greatness as a species? I don't know, it just seems a little far fetched. If that were true, wouldn't we spend more time finding ways that we're all similar instead of throwing up walls and barriers because of our differences. Maybe I'm just being an idealist now. I'm certainly not about to give a political speech, that's in the writer's handbook. If I told you what my values are, I'd just polarize all of you, and that's not what it's all about. Besides, who really wants to get into all of that nonsense, anyway. We're better than that, and better than whatever differences divide us. _

_Okay, wow, maybe I'm starting to sound a little preachy after all. Sorry, it isn't intentional, really. Some days I just don't know what I'm doing when I start writing. I guess that's the chance you take when you decide to read my column. Or maybe I'm just covering up my own feelings of fear and inadequacy. I decided to take this trip so I can find myself, but I've learned from enough books and movies that sometimes, finding yourself can be pretty painful. You might even learn some things you wish you hadn't. As a child, I thought I grew up kind of normally. It wasn't until I became a teenager that I started to notice that some of my friends were better of than I am. And it really didn't strike me just how different myself and someone like Courtney was until she became a much larger part of my life. It's amazing how much things can change, how our worlds expand exponentially every year while we're growing up. They say it's our youth experiences that go a long way towards determining who we are, who we become. I'm inclined to agree. Maybe that's what makes this so funny, that I don't know who I have become in spite of the fact that I was present for all of my major experiences and choices. But I can't mete out some kind of pattern or answer. I don't know where I'm going, I don't understand the things that life is showing me. So I guess that's giving me kind of a downer feeling. _

_When I look around this little main street cafe, I like the feeling I get. There's almost a feeling of contentment and family here. These people all know each other. And I'm a stranger, but not an unwelcome one. It's as though I can sense them feeling me out, trying to figure out what to make of me. And I think I would like to be one of them, at least for a little while. One of the servers has been flirting with me a bit, but he seems nice enough. I almost feel guilty, knowing I'm going to have to disappoint him, but sometimes life just can't be helped. Nice guys don't deserve getting their hopes up for nothing, though. I'll try to let him down easy. The local musician's group is playing some Pachelbel. And the waiter that likes me just freshened my latte. I wiggle my feet together in a kind of anticipation. Yes, I think I could learn to like it here, at least for a little while. There's something about this place that speaks to me. Something whispered, but good. A girl could get used to this. I only wish you could see my smile. Hello, world. Foutley's back!_


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